


To Love Somebody

by Secretlyademigodinthetardis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Additional Warnings in Author’s Note, Alternative Universe – College/University, Angst, Community: deancasbigbang, Dean in Glasses, Demisexual Castiel, F/M, Fluff, Frottage, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Pansexual Dean, Promiscuous Dean, Secret Crush, Smut, mentions of bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:49:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2488304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretlyademigodinthetardis/pseuds/Secretlyademigodinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“My name is Castiel. You seemed upset. I merely hoped to lend a kind ear, should you wish to talk about it,” Castiel said quietly, staring into his lap. </i>
  <br/>
  <i>The man offered Castiel an unsure, albeit grateful smile. “The name’s Dean Winchester.”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Castiel smiled. “Hello, Dean. Do you want a beer?”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Dean shook his head and laughed before looking back at Castiel. “Sure, man. I kinda need it.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Destiel College AU, in which a demisexual Castiel meets a pansexual Dean, and the road to love is paved with Michael Bublé.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Love Somebody

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [DeanCas BigBang Challenge 2014](http://deancasbigbang.livejournal.com/). Art/Beta'd by [almaasi](http://almaasi.tumblr.com), who is the coolest person ever and I am SO HAPPY she picked me to work with :D
> 
>  **[Art masterpost!](http://almaasi.livejournal.com/26187.html)** (art is also embedded into the fic)
> 
>  **Other pairings:** Dean/Lisa, brief Dean/Aaron, one unrequited Dean/Benny kiss, Castiel/Meg (dating, kissing, predatory non-consensual advances from Meg), past Cas/other, background Sam/Jessica and Baldur/Gabriel.  
>  **Warnings:** Abusive John Winchester, child abuse, mentions of bottom!Dean, low self-esteem (Dean), sexuality-based insults against an asexuality-spectrum character (Cas), mild attempts at asexuality “correction”. ‘Fight Club’ and ‘Star Wars’ references/slight spoilers, British spelling because the author is British, frottage and feelings.

Castiel dropped the heavy box on his baby toe and swore loudly, hopping around and clutching at his wounded foot. “Ah! God— Fuck!” He hunched over and hissed in pain, gritting his teeth.

“Hey! Watch your language, baby bro,” came a voice from behind him. 

Castiel turned to his older brother, who was leaning against the doorframe of his room with a large smirk upon his lips, a lollipop stick marring the smugness of said smirk.

“Gabriel, as I recall, you offered to come here and _help_ me,” he growled. “Instead of laughing at my misfortune, you could actually, you know, help me. Maybe?”

Gabriel snorted and went to pick up the box Castiel had dropped. “Holy fuck, Cassie! The hell did you put in this thing?!”

“My books,” Castiel said loftily. Gabriel groaned.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

A scant two hours later, the two brothers had shifted all of Castiel’s belongings into his new single dorm room. “I can’t believe I’m in my final year of a teaching degree and I still have to live here,” Castiel said.

“Cassie, you can hardly call it a teaching degree if you’re teaching pre-schoolers. And you know I’d let you live with me, but—”

“There is no way in hell I am living with you and Baldur having loud sex every night _on a permanent basis_!”

“Exactly!”

Finally, all of Castiel’s possessions were arranged in some semblance of order. Castiel looked around his new living space (which was now decidedly less bare, the walls decorated with various posters) with a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

“Thank you, Gabriel,” he said, leaning against his drawers, resting a cool beer bottle against his forehead and closing his eyes. Gabriel simply flopped across Castiel’s narrow bed in response.

“You know what, Cassie? I’m just gonna have a nap here,” Castiel’s older brother mumbled. “That’d be cool. Okay. Yep.” He shut his eyes and snuggled in. However, as he did so the sound of a raised voice penetrated the room from outside, and he shot up in alarm with his golden hair askew.

“The fuck?”

Castiel crossed over to the open window that was two storeys up and looked down. On the carefully tended grass verge, an attractive man dressed in a worn and overlarge leather jacket paced up and down the uneven concrete path, past a black beast of a car. He was yelling into his phone, not seeming to care the passersby could hear him.

“Well, you know what, jackass?!” the man bellowed, “I’m so past giving a shit, you couldn’t find one if you stuck your hand up my ass and performed a fuckin’ colonoscopy! I’m actually trying to do somethin’ that makes me happy, and right now I’m fuckin’ glad you kicked me out, ‘cause now at least I don’t have to live with you constantly making me feel like shit about something I enjoy doing!”

He hung up with a sharp, angry jab, then sighed, freezing for a moment before sinking down so that he was sat on the grass with his knees tucked into his chest, staring at nothing with a drawn expression. Everyone who was walking down there on the path and grass gave him a wide berth, as if scared that they would be the next target of his rage. Next to Castiel, Gabriel let out a long, low whistle.

“Whew, Ken Doll sure looks pissed, don’t he?” Castiel threw him a sharp glance.

“The man is clearly suffering, Gabriel. Don’t laugh at him. In fact, I might just...” Castiel left the small window and put on his tan-coloured overcoat before heading out the door, and glared at the grin Gabriel sent his way. Continuing a long-standing argument, he simply said “For the last time, Gabriel, it’s an overcoat!”

Gabriel snorted as he reclined back on the bed, rolling yet another lollipop around his mouth with his tongue. “Cassie, it’s a trench coat. And you look like a stalker.”

Castiel huffed, straightening the buttoned sleeves. “It’s comfortable!” He headed down the stairs and outside, to where the man was still sitting.

“Hello,” he said, sitting down next to him. The man blinked and looked up, and Castiel barely registered his red-rimmed eyes before being struck by just how _green_ his irises were. The eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Um, hi? Do I know you?”

“My name is Castiel. You seemed upset. I merely hoped to offer a kind ear, should you wish to talk about it,” Castiel said quietly, staring into his lap. His coat hung off his shoulders, the bottom of it resting on the ground around him like a miniature tent, providing a barrier against the rest of the world.

The man gave him a watery smile. “The name’s Dean Winchester.” His smile went from tear filled to unsure, albeit grateful.

Castiel smiled. “Hello, Dean. Do you want a beer?”

Dean shook his head and laughed before looking back at Castiel. “Sure, man. I kinda need it.”

Castiel was momentarily dumbstruck by the way Dean’s dirty-blonde hair caught the light, and the way his freckles stood out against his golden skin. Still somewhat dazed, he unfolded himself and stood up, then extended a hand down to Dean, who took it and allowed himself to be hauled up. They stood for a moment, facing each other and smiling faintly, before Castiel led the way back to his dorm.

Gabriel, who was now standing at the window watching the pair of them, grinned to himself.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

“Gabriel, this is Dean. Dean, Gabriel.”

Gabriel smirked and shook hands with Dean, taking in his wide-eyed appearance.

“‘Sup, Deano! Grab a beer, sit yourself down, tell Dr. Gabe the story.” He sat on Castiel’s bed and patted the duvet next to him. Dean looked slightly terrified. Castiel walked over and smacked the back of his brother’s head.

“Gabriel,” he said warningly. Turning to Dean, he apologised, saying, “Sorry, Gabriel is—”

“Awesome,” Gabriel supplied helpfully.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “‘Insane’ is the word I would use.”

Dean, who was rolling the beer around in his hands and watching the pair of them in amusement, smiled. “It’s cool, man. You just moving in too, Cas?”

Castiel paused with his lips around the mouth of his bottle. He pulled off with a pop, and Gabriel stifled a laugh when Dean was seemingly unable to take his eyes off Castiel’s mouth. “Cas?”

“Oh, uh, like a nickname?” Dean stammered, shrugging. “I mean, your name is pretty cool, but um. A mouthful? Cas just sounds a bit... easier...?” Castiel smiled.

“Cas is fine.”

Dean nodded and smiled back crookedly. They both stared at one another over the rims of their bottles, and Castiel couldn’t help but notice how Dean’s eyes already had the beginnings of crow’s feet at the edges, laughter lines that only served to accentuate how his green eyes changed hue in different light. Castiel took a hasty gulp of his beer, breaking the eye contact. Dean’s eyes tracked the way Castiel’s Adam’s apple bobbed with the swallow before turning to Gabriel.

“So, what are you doing here?”

Gabriel, still sprawled out across Castiel’s bed, threw his hands up. “Just helping my brother move back in. I own a bakery down the road from here; Cassie was staying with me over vacation but sadly—” here he let out a deep sigh, “—decided to resume his residence here. Our parents don’t love us enough to give us the time of day any more, so I’m the cavalry.”

As he said this, Dean’s eyes flicked over to Castiel, who pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Gabriel! They... I’m sorry, Dean. Once again. Our parents are... they love us, but that does not mean to say—”

“They think we’re disappointments for being gay,” Gabriel interjected. Castiel sighed.

“Gabriel, can we please not do this?” He looked at Dean. “I’m not gay. I’m... What did you call it?” he asked Gabriel, who rolled his eyes. “I’m not overly fond of categorising sexuality.”

“Demisexual,” Gabriel put in. “He only wants to bang a person after he’s emotionally connected to them. I’m gay as hell, is that an issue?”

Dean gaped at him. “Dude, no! What the hell do you think I was yelling on the phone about?”

Castiel cocked his head to one side in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

Now it was Dean’s turn to sigh as he looked down and rested his hands on Castiel’s wooden dresser. “My dad isn’t very... open-minded. And his issues with me are why I’m living here now. I’m... pan, I guess? Like, I’ll be with you no matter what your gender or whatever? I’m sorry, I don’t know how to phrase it,” he looked up apologetically, “but yeah. I like what I like. I don’t limit myself to a single gender.” His gaze dropped to the floor again, and Castiel missed the way it had felt on his face.

“Dean, I think I would like for us to be friends,” Castiel stated flatly, having known as soon as he and Dean had first spoken he wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t befriend the other man. “I feel like those of us with minority sexualities should stick together. If you would like that too, of course.” Dean and Gabriel looked at him – Gabriel like he was about to start laughing, Dean with an expression of pleased surprise.

“I think I would like that too, Cas,” he replied softly. “I mean, I didn’t come up here with a complete stranger for no reason.”

Over on the bed, Gabriel snorted, and Dean found himself grinning too.

“God, you two are fuckin’ weirdos,” Gabriel chortled, and Castiel rolled his eyes apologetically at Dean.

“I could say the same for you two,” Dean retorted. “But then again, you gave me free beer.”

“Well, better not say it then,” Castiel said as he grinned, a full, toothy smile that transformed his rather serious demeanour. “I’m pretty much done here; do you need help moving in?”

Dean looked surprised at the offer, but nodded. “Yeah, that’d be real nice.”

A groan was clearly audible from where Gabriel was lolling on the bed. “I have to help, don’t I?” Castiel threw a cushion at him.

“If you still want me to buy you that French cheesecake for your birthday, yes.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

The three of them approached Dean’s car apprehensively. Castiel had abandoned his coat, leaving him dressed in dark jeans and a grey Henley with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, which perfectly outlined the contours of his muscles, much to Dean’s quiet appreciation.

“You have a beautiful car, Dean,” Castiel finally said, and Dean gave him a breathtaking full-wattage smile.

“You think so? She’s a ’67 Chevy Impala,” he said, running a hand along the sleek metal body. “She... she means a lot to me, I rebuilt her a couple of times.” _After Dad trashed her again and again_. His voice grew quieter as he spoke, and he stared down at the hand that rested on the back car. Castiel nudged him.

“Well, I’m sure she’s sick of holding all your stuff for you while you hung out with us, so why don’t we do her a favour and unload her?” Castiel offered quietly. Dean shot him a grateful look before opening the door to the backseat. Behind them, Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“As long as I don’t have to carry a ridiculously heavy box of books, I’m all for helping,” he groused.

“Here,” Dean dumped a box in his arms, and Gabriel staggered slightly. “You can carry my albums.”

“This weighs a ton! Why don’t you just download music like a normal person?” Gabriel said, glaring at Dean over the top of the box as he turned to walk back into the building. He paused, foot hovering above the dirty grass that adorned the university grounds. “Which room are you in?”

Dean thought for a second, looking at his keys as he thumbed them idly. “304, I’m pretty sure.” He flashed a cheeky smile at Gabriel, who scowled and walked back into the plain brick building’s glass doors with the box clutched in his arms.

Turning back, Dean found Castiel leaning into the car, hauling out the box that contained his books. Momentarily distracted by the way Castiel’s jeans were pulled taut across his backside, Dean almost missed exactly what Castiel was grabbing.

“Dude! You sure you can carry that? It’s…” He found himself speechless when Castiel straightened up effortlessly, smiling at him. “Heavy?” he finished weakly.

Castiel shrugged. “I’m used to carrying heavy things,” he said.

Dean eyed the muscles that were bunched up underneath what Castiel was wearing, and bit his lip. “Yeah, I’ll bet,” he murmured. Thankfully, Castiel didn’t seem to notice his scrutiny; he simply strode into the building. Dean stared after him, allowing his eyes to rove over his body shamelessly before he shook himself and dragged out the last few boxes. He dumped them carelessly on the sidewalk beside him, before locking up the Impala, grabbing them and staggering inside, barely able to see where he was going over the stack of boxes in his arms.

Once he arrived at his new single room, he dropped his things on his bed and shrugged at the two brothers. “Well, it’s not all my stuff. Didn’t get much chance to pack much – I’m just real glad they had a spare dorm this late.”

“Why didn’t you get a chance to pack?” Castiel asked, frowning. Gabriel slapped a palm to the back of his brother’s head.

“You can’t just ask people things like that, Cassie!”

Castiel promptly blushed. “Sorry. I tend to have a habit of asking invasive questions.”

Dean snorted. “It’s fine, man. I just got kicked out my house at short notice by my asshole dad. Like I said, he’s never exactly been a huge fan of my ‘life choices’.” He looked down at the photograph he’d lifted out of the box, smiling at the sight of Sam’s grinning face. He hefted the frame in his hands a couple of times before setting it down on the bare nightstand that had been provided. He turned around, a smile forcing itself onto his face. “But I think it was coming home to find me with a drag queen’s dick up my ass that really made him lose his shit.”

Gabriel roared with laughter at that and Castiel raised his eyebrows. Dean looked down, embarrassed. “So, yeah. Didn’t give me much time to grab everything of mine before I had to get out, so I’m heading back tomorrow to get the rest of it.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, and Castiel had an inexplicable urge to hug him. “Thanks for the help, guys. Wanna go grab a burger or somethin’? My treat.”

Gabriel stood up and stretched. “Thanks for the offer, Deano, but I should probably head on home. There’s a lovely Norse god of a man waiting for me to get home and... well, I won’t traumatise you kids with the details, but lots of whipped cream will be involved.” He winked and vanished out the door, leaving Dean and Castiel stood there with almost identical expressions of disgust and horror. They turned to one another.

“So, Cas, burgers? And you can tell me all about exactly how traumatising your older brother is,” he slapped a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and they headed out the door, locking it behind them.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

The next day the two of them headed out in the Impala, driving to what had until yesterday been Dean's home.

"So, Cas, what are you studying?" Dean asked. When Castiel looked over, he saw that Dean had one hand on the wheel and the other resting beside him just out of the window, feeling the wind rush past them.

"I'm majoring in history, and—"

"Get outta town! Me too!" Dean grinned at him, and Castiel couldn't stop himself from smiling back. "I'm in my last year, gonna be a history teacher."

"I want to teach kindergarten, and I really think history will help. I'm really looking forward to teaching 4 year olds about the French Revolution, I feel it will help them understand the democratic state we live in today," Castiel deadpanned. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel saw Dean glance at him, and he gave a small smirk. Dean grinned back and snorted, and soon the pair of them were laughing. Once he was over it, Castiel gave a happy sigh before saying, "So, how come I've never seen you around campus?"

Dean shrugged. "You know, I've been, uh... distance learning and shit. Gotta look after my brother, you know?"

At the change in tone, Castiel frowned. "How come?"

Another awkward shrug. "My dad... and the whole ‘he's an asshole’ thing? Yeah."

"Oh."

The further into the other side of town they got, Dean only became more quiet and subdued, despite Castiel's best efforts to engage him in conversation. Eventually Dean’s mouth set in a grim line, and he said nothing more.

Soon enough, they walked together up the cracked path towards the Winchester house. Dean now seemed vaguely nervous.

They reached the house, a small wooden building with a wraparound porch that looked as if it had the potential to fall to pieces at any second. They climbed a short set of wooden steps to get there, and as Dean fiddled around with the set of keys dangling from his hand, Castiel looked around with a growing sense of unease. They were in the more dilapidated side of town, and he was more than slightly worried about getting mugged. He eyed the long, unkempt grass suspiciously before turning back to Dean.

Dean frowned and attempted to fit his key into the lock for the second time, but even though the tip went in, it refused to go further. Dean couldn’t unlock the door.

“Son of a _BITCH_!” Dean slammed the flat of his hand against the battered wooden frame. The front door shook, and a flake of paint fell off to reveal even more of the wood beneath.

Castiel took a nervous step closer, so he was one step below the porch his new friend was standing on.

“Dean? Is everything okay?” he asked tentatively. Dean ran a hand down his face and leaned his forehead against the door.

“No, Cas, everything is not okay. They— My dad changed the fucking locks. I’ve been gone less than forty-eight hours, and he changed the locks.” He took a deep breath, apparently willing himself not to cry. Castiel stepped up beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“He hates me,” Dean said bitterly. “My dad hates me.” Tears began to leak out from underneath his closed eyelids; he blinked and wiped them away with the back of his hand and turned to face Castiel. “I guess we’ll just have to break in to get my stuff – no way in Hell am I letting Sammy find all the porn in my old room.”

Castiel chewed his lip, unsure what to say to reassure him. “Dean, I—“

Before he could figure out where to go with that sentence, a small voice from behind them said, “Dean?”

Dean’s eyes widened, the green in them more vivid than ever from his unshed tears as he turned to face the younger boy who stood behind them on the path – gangly, around eighteen years old and obviously unused to the long limbs of his body, with a shocked expression on his face as he clutched at the strap of his backpack. “Sam?”

The boy – Sam – ran up the stairs, a grin on his face. Castiel stepped out the way as he flung his arms around Dean, who froze before hugging him back tightly and closing his eyes. “Hey, Sammy. Mind letting me in?” he mumbled. At this, Sam pulled back looking ashamed.

“I tried to stop him, Dean, I did. But he... he kept yelling and yelling, and I tried to yell back, but he got really angry, and...” Sam stopped talking when he saw the thunderous look on Dean’s face.

When Dean spoke, it was in a vicious, low tone. “Did he hurt you, Sammy?”

Sam moved back another step and looked down as his older brother’s tone grew more dangerous. “Sam. Tell me.”

Sam glanced over at Castiel, who made an effort to look as nonchalant as possible, standing several steps away. “Dean, it’s fine,” Sam said in a hush. “It’s not like— I’m fine, okay? You’ve had way worse than me. Than this.”

“In the house. Now.” Dean’s voice was tight and Castiel saw his eyes were flooding again. Sam’s trembling hands unlocked the door with a key, and Dean flew inside, fuming. Castiel stood on the porch, shifting from one foot to another before Dean impatiently gestured for him to come inside.

Castiel closed the door quietly behind him. Dean and Sam stood in the living room that was directly inside, which consisted of a solitary lumpy couch facing a small television set, and a coffee table that had empty beer cans and whiskey bottles strewn across it. The patched blanket that was thrown over the couch (Castiel concluded that it was most likely Dean or Sam that had done this, considering what he had heard about John Winchester) did absolutely nothing to hide the suspicious stains that covered the couch and a significant portion of the blanket.

Dean folded his arms and faced his younger brother. “Show me.”

Sam sighed and dropped his bag, lifting the hem of his shirt. Castiel gasped as Dean’s eyes narrowed to slits before he turned away and bit into his fist, as if willing himself to not say anything. On Sam’s skin, a mottled bruise was making its way across his right side, beginning halfway down his ribs and stretching across his abdomen. It was already a deep black and blue, blooming with a palette of purple, an angry red towards the edges.

“Sam. Pack your things.” Dean’s voice brooked no argument, but Sam stood his ground, letting his shirt fall back into place.

“Dean—“

“Sam. Now.”

Sam sighed and trudged up the rickety wooden staircase, slamming his feet down on every step. Dean, one hand braced on his hip, exhaled in a whoosh of air as he turned to Castiel, running his other hand through his short hair.

“Sorry this isn’t going as planned, man. I gotta get Sammy outta here, take him to Bobby’s or somethin’. You can go home if you want." He looked at Castiel nervously, as if waiting for him to decide that he couldn’t be bothered getting any more involved in Dean’s truckload of issues and leave. However, Castiel was not deterred by what he'd seen; if anything, his new awareness made him more inclined to help. He raised his eyebrows and stood up.

“I’m not just going to ditch you, Dean. We’re friends – well, we’ve known each other for a day but I’d like to think we are friends – and I am here to help. Now, which room has your belongings?” He made his way over to the bottom of the staircase. Once he reached it, he turned and smiled at Dean. “Coming?”

Dean looked at him with a blank expression, before apparently reaching the conclusion that Castiel wasn’t going anywhere, and accepting his help. He gave a lopsided, thankful grin to Castiel, nudging past him to walk up the stairs.

Once they got upstairs, Dean hesitated at the door to his room. Both he and Castiel heard Sam in the next room along, rummaging around for things to pack. "Um, so," Dean started, "When I left, it was a mess. And I’m not sure my dad left it alone so... I don’t exactly know what state it’s going to be in.”

Castiel gave him a Look. “Dean, I carried a box that had your underwear in it yesterday. I’m not judging.”

A surge of gratitude flushed through Dean, but turning around didn't hide his smile from Castiel. Dean opened the door, and his smile quickly faded when the door thudded against the wooden wall. Castiel observed the disaster area Dean's old bedroom had become, and supposed John Winchester had been feeling particularly vengeful when he went through Dean’s possessions – scattered pages of books were strewn across the bare floorboards, in amongst clothes and photographs, all of which were buried under the mess of CDs that made Dean’s floor less of a space to walk and more of a multi-layered sedimentary mass.

“Fucking hell,” Dean ground out, crouching down and sifting through the mess. “He took no fucking prisoners, did he? ‘Least I got most of the good stuff out.” He sighed, sitting down on his bed as he ran a hand through his hair and looked at Castiel. “Sorry, man. More room for Sammy’s stuff, I guess.”

Castiel shrugged as he moved further into the room. “Some of this may be salvageable, Dean.” He raised a torn T-shirt by the tip of a finger, and it fell back on top of a smashed glass frame. “Then again, maybe not.”

There was a snort from the man on the bed. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s just grab Sammy and go. This shit’s replaceable, anyway. I got the important stuff back home.” Dean paused, then sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “The dorm room’s ‘home’ now.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

The Impala pulled up outside Singer’s Salvage Yard as the sun was going down, the dimming rays casting a pink glow over everything they touched. Dean climbed out the driver’s side door, then slammed it behind him as Sam followed suit on the other side.

They’d dropped Castiel back at the university dorm, Dean offering a quick smile to assuage his concerned expression, and from there, they’d driven straight to Bobby’s place. Sam’s possessions cluttered the backseat, his enormous schoolbag stuffed with clothes and a couple of suitcases containing everything else. Dean was in the process of hauling everything out and grunting with the effort while Sam watched anxiously, when Bobby stepped outside onto his porch.

“Boy, stop tryna’ do everything yourself!” Bobby said resignedly, striding over and grasping the other side of the bag Dean was grappling with. “You’ll just hurt yourself, and then what good’ll you be for studying?”

Dean shrugged. “You need help setting up Sammy’s room?”

An eyeroll was all he got in response, because when Bobby opened up his mouth to retort, he was interrupted by a loud bark. An enormous Rottweiler bounded out of the house and barrelled Sam over, giving his face a thorough licking as he laughed and hugged the enormous creature before it loped over to Dean.

“Hey, Rumsfeld,” Dean said gruffly, patting the dog between the ears. Rumsfeld gave a happy whine and nosed Dean’s jeans before returning his attention back to Sam. Sam perked up immensely at the sight of the Rottweiler, despite holding himself awkwardly, pained by his bruised ribs. Dean and Bobby shrugged at one another before grabbing a bag each and carting them inside, leaving Sam to play with Rumsfeld.

Once inside, Bobby gave Dean a level look. “You alright, son?” he asked carefully, like he was wary of how Dean might react. But Dean didn’t object to Bobby calling him that – he’d been more of a father than John, anyhow – and he simply shrugged once more before answering.

“I’m fine, Bobby. Thanks for agreeing to look after Sam. Hey, where’s your first aid kit? I should look at his bruises.” Dean walked into the kitchen, but Bobby shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant, idjit, and you know it. Are _you_ alright?” he pressed. Once Dean reached the table he simply slumped down into a seat, allowing the weight of the past few days to fall from him.

“I’ll— I’ll live, Bobby. Kinda have to. I might drop out – can’t really afford college anymore now, and I need to look after Sammy. Can I stay here too?”

Bobby scowled at him. “Dammit, Dean! You ain’t quittin’ school! You can pick up some hours at the garage, Sam can live here so you don’t have to worry about him, and I’ll help pay for your school.”

“But—“ Dean protested, but Bobby glared at him.

“I own two businesses and Ellen owns a third. We can help, so accept it! You’ve been hanging around my auto shop since you were tiny anyway, and it’ll give me more time to manage here. Deal?”

A grunt. “Sure.”

Bobby clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go get back to your place, Sam’ll be fine. I’ll take him to the hospital, make sure it’s all surface damage. You got studying to do.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

A month passed.

Dean tried to get to all of his lectures, running on about six hours of sleep a night during the week. The day he walked into his first history tutorial of the semester and saw Castiel, his face broke into a wide grin, and he hurried over and plopped himslf down next to him.

They sat together from then on, and the fast friendship they had developed deepened even further through the flicking of notes and exchanging of phone calls and texts. It only got better when they realised they had the same English lectures too, and it was rare to see one without the other around campus.

“Obsession, Cas!” Dean declared, upon learning about, and then being _inundated_ by Castiel’s lifelong love of bees and flowers.

It was a declaration to which Castiel replied, “Dean, I am merely fond of—”

Dean cut him off. “Dude. Ob. Sess. Sion.”

This _obsession_ was partially reflected in the enormous flower poster he had tacked on his bedroom wall, with the individual meaning of each flower next to the pictures. Despite Dean’s gentle mocking, Castiel stubbornly stuck by his fondness for nature, and often wandered round the nearest botanical gardens with a smile on his face.

In turn, Castiel learned about Dean’s deep and abiding love for his car, and very quickly understood exactly how Dean would react if he – jokingly! – insulted Led Zeppelin.

Castiel found himself staring more and more frequently at Dean when the other man wasn’t paying attention, distracted by the constellation of freckles he could see and the contrast they provided with his clear emerald eyes. Often, he would feel a penetrating stare boring into the side of his face, but when he looked up, Dean was focused on Professor Shurley’s rambling, so maybe it was nothing.

He hoped it wasn’t, though.

Dean, to his everlasting surprise, was balancing everything in his life pretty well. His life was a constant flow of going to lectures, hanging out with Castiel, going to work at Singer’s AutoRepair, sleeping and studying. The more time he spent with Castiel, the happier he was.

A lot of the time, though, work ended up clashing with lectures. He ended up not attending any lectures on Wednesdays, relying on Castiel and other classmates to lend him their notes, and worked himself to the point of absolute exhaustion at the garage to earn the money that got him through school.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

Castiel walked into Dean’s room one evening that weekend, a six-pack of beer in one hand and his laptop in the other. He stopped dead at the sight of Dean, who was sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands and eyes closed. “Dean?”

Dean lifted his head, and his eyes were tired and watery. “Hey, Cas.”

Setting down the beers and laptop, Castiel was at his side in an instant, hand on shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

His friend shrugged. “I’m just pissed about my dad, is all. I want nothing to do with him after how he treated Sam, and yet... Some hint of regret, or fatherly affection towards Sam would be nice, you know? I mean, the kid hasn’t done anything wrong. And Dad hasn’t even heard whether or not Bobby reported him to the cops for child abuse. You’d think he’d maybe call or something, let us know he was at least freaking alive.” He sighed. “I’m pretty sure when – _if_ I next see him, I’m calling the damn cops myself.” He stopped, as if realising that he was speaking aloud, and managed a weak smile. “Anyway, what’s up?”

Castiel frowned slightly, but let it slide. “I thought we could have a movie night. I distinctly remember you taking it personally when I told you I hadn’t seen ‘Fight Club’, so when I was at Gabriel’s I downloaded it and... yeah. It might cheer you up, too.”

Dean’s forced smile became genuine, his eyes brightening. “Dude. Awesome. You set up the laptop, I’ll make my bed a couch, and we can use the microwave down the hall and make a shitload of popcorn. Deal?”

Soon enough, the pair of them were sitting in the dark, watching Edward Norton attend a Testicular Cancer support group. Right on cue, just as Dean expected, Castiel frowned.

“I thought this was about a fighting club, not cancer.”

With a sigh, Dean leaned forward and paused the movie, just as Helena Bonham Carter let out a puff of smoke that filled the screen. “Dude. It gets to that part, okay?”

The frown deepened. “He starts fighting because he attends a cancer support group of his own free will despite not even having cancer?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “This makes complete sense. It makes about as much sense as that ‘Inception’ movie you made me watch, which only actually makes sense if you watch it at least three times because it was only then that I understood what Cobb’s totem truly was.”

Dean stared at him. “Wait, what?!”

There was a smug smile on Castiel’s face when he responded. “My, how the tables have turned, young padawan.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “You’ve seen ‘Star Wars’?!”

“Dean, you would have to have been born under a rock to have not seen Star Wars. I’m hurt that you think so little of me. Now, let’s get to the part with Brad Pitt in it, I want to see if he eats in this movie.” And with that, Castiel leaned forward and hit play, Dean staring at him with a mix of astonishment, humour, and fondness.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

Dean made a point to go and see Sam every Sunday. They would sit and play video games, and tell each other about their week. Dean was delighted to hear about how well Sam was doing in his classes, and when Sam mentioned a girl named Jess helping him study for English and promptly blushed, Dean jumped on it instantly.

“Ooh, ‘Jess’?” He nudged his brother, who glared.

“Shut up.”

“She cute?”

“...Maybe,” Sam mumbled. “She’s smart. And funny. And stuff.”

“‘And stuff.’ Nice.” Dean threw a piece of popcorn at his brother. On screen, Batman was tearing through Gotham on the (for lack of a better word) BatBike, and Dean was momentarily distracted before returning to grilling the younger Winchester. “You gonna ask her out? Should I plan the wedding?”

Sam scowled. “Shuddup. I’ll be planning your wedding to Cas waaay before anything remotely like that happens with Jess.”

Dean froze, hand clutching both M&Ms and popcorn halfway to his mouth as he stared at Sam. “What?”

“You and Cas? Don’t tell me that isn’t a thing, holy crap. I thought you were already dating in secret or something. You’re telling me you aren’t?”

“No?!” Dean looked at Sam like he was crazy, and took a mouthful of food to give himself time to reflect on his friendship with the quieter man.

Hanging out with Castiel was as easy as breathing. They would sit in either his or Dean’s room for hours, talking or watching movies. Dean had said once that if Castiel hadn't seen ‘The Avengers’, he might cry, and Castiel's response had been to ask whether he should invest in a box of Kleenex tissues. It was like that most of the time.

Well, it was either that, or studying. When Dean didn’t understand something in his notes, Castiel would explain it to him in a way that made Dean wonder how he hadn't seen it before. When Castiel was helping Dean, Dean never felt as he had with his tutors in the past – like he was stupid, and that Sam was the smart one in the family, as John had so often impressed to him.

Castiel made Dean feel like his life and efforts were worthwhile.

Huh. Dean had a feeling he might look back on this conversation with Sam and remember it as a clue he missed at the time. Still, he rolled his eyes at his brother in an attempt to knock that annoying smirk off his face. “Just shut up and watch the damn movie.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

“Cas!” Dean grinned as he slid into the red and white booth opposite Castiel, waving a piece of paper with scrawled writing all over it. “I got a B!”

His friend looked up from where he had been perusing notes on the small table – carefully placed out of the splash zone of his burger – and beamed back. “That’s amazing, Dean!”

Dean kept looking at his paper as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “I know, right? I mean, shit – Cas, man, I wouldn’t have been able to do half this crap without you. I owe you bigtime.” The grateful look he was sending Castiel softened. “I mean it. Seriously. Thank you.”

Castiel turned a faint pink, and his blue eyes seemed brighter because of it. “Dean, it was all you. I simply assisted with information you would have had already, were you not working.”

A shrug. “Nah, I’m kinda stupid. It’s okay, though. If you’re helping me I’ll get through.” He shot Castiel an anxious glance. “You’re okay with helping me, right?”

Castiel, mouth full of burger, scowled as the bell chimed and signalled more customers coming into the diner and brought with them the noise of outside. He chewed and swallowed carefully before replying. “Dean, I will only continue to help you if you accept your own worth. Okay? You are a smart, caring human being who does not deserve the treatment you give yourself. I will help you, but only if you help yourself.”

Someone jostled Dean’s shoulder as they walked past their booth, and he glared at them before poking his tongue out at Castiel. “Fine. But enough nerdy chick flick moments.”

A napkin hit him in the face and he smirked, brushing it off. Castiel poked his tongue out back, retrieving his napkin and trash and moving to leave. “Come on, then, we have an assignment due next week that I’m ninety-nine percent sure you’ve barely started on.”

Dean got up to follow him outside, a faint glimmer of hope touching his heart.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

On a day much like that one, they were driving back from the Roadhouse, cheeseburgers resting between them, when the urge to take Castiel’s hand struck Dean like a battering ram. At the time, Castiel was halfway through telling Dean about when Gabriel managed to set the kitchen and their mother’s favourite dress on fire.

“And then he just looked at her, covered in paint, and said with a dead straight face ‘I was making a salad’.”

Dean laughed and looked over at Castiel as he laughed too. Their laughter settled slightly, and for a moment, they gazed at one another in silence. Dean was completely absorbed by the fond smile Castiel was giving him, his guttural laugh still echoing in his mind, the way that having Castiel in the passenger seat felt so inexplicably _right_ , that it felt natural to just want to reach out and…

_Shit, Sam was right._

He flinched, almost losing his grip on the steering wheel, and turned back to the road.

_Cas is off-limits, remember? Demisexual and shit. He doesn’t see you that way._

There was a slightly hollow feeling in his stomach as he forced a smile on his face and continued to drive, oblivious to the slightly disappointed expression on Castiel’s face.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

The next day, Dean burst into Castiel’s room grinning. Castiel, who had been half asleep on his bed, music playing softly, jolted upright with his hair sticking up at all angles, blinking.

“Dean, what the hell?!”

“Dude, you’ll never guess what,” Dean grinned, collapsing on the bed as it gave a loud squeak of protest.

Castiel determinedly ignored the warmth that emanated from Dean’s body as he pressed himself against the shorter man, instead looking pointedly at the handwritten pages that were crumpled underneath them. “I probably won’t guess, but you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“Damn right I am! Wait, what the hell are you listening to?” Dean was quiet as the smooth jazz wafted over him, and he raised his eyebrows at Castiel, who scowled.

“It’s Michael Bublé, Dean. He’s actually pretty good, okay?” Castiel definitely had a soft spot for the performer, despite having a taste in music eerily similar to Dean’s. The attractiveness of the man may or may not have been a factor in his love for the music, but that hadn’t stopped him from buying all of the Canadian singer’s albums. “In fact, in a few months he’s going to be performing nearby – Gabriel and I have tickets to the concert.”

Dean shrugged. “Cool. Whatever. Okay, you know that chick in our class, Lisa Something? Guess who slept with her last night.”

Bile attempted to force its way up Castiel’s throat as he stared at his friend. He tried for his usual dry sarcasm, hoping it was enough to cover the fact that he felt physically ill at the thought of Dean kissing – touching – making love to – the attractive brunette who sat nearby in their English lectures. “I’m guessing it wasn’t Victor, otherwise you wouldn’t be this ecstatic,” he managed to say, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“You could be a little more thrilled, man. She’s super hot! And bendy as hell,” he added as he threw an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pulled him closer. Castiel stiffened.

“I am happy for you, Dean. Well done. I was in the middle of studying, however—” _lie lie lie_ “—and you just took a nose-dive all over my notes. And you reek of sex and dead flowers, which I assume is the perfume she was wearing at the time. Did you shower at all, or did you just come straight to me to share the happy news? And will you call her?”

Dean stood up, frowning. “Sorry, man. I’ll go shower. And it’s not like it’s anyone’s business if I call her or not – I might, I might not. And what’s with the tone? Geez. Didn’t realise me getting some action was so damn offensive to you. Just because you can’t get it up unless you’re half-married doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t get some.”

He walked out and slammed the door even as Castiel cried out “Dean, I didn’t—!”

Halfway down the hall, Dean slumped on a bench and rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes. Yeah, sex with Lisa had been amazing. And she was hot. That, however, hadn’t been enough to stop the flash of blue eyes that had seared itself into his brain as he came with a moan, and the instant surge of guilt he had felt when asking Lisa for her number (which she had tapped into his phone with a wink).

 _Why the hell did I just do that?_ he asked himself.

A voice that sounded way too much like Sam for his liking piped up in response. _Because you’re living out the same self-destructive cycle Dad did, and you wanted to make Cas jealous. But all you did was piss him off and insult him, so that’s another friend you’ve managed to lose. Good going, jackass._

Dean scowled and walked back to his room.

Meanwhile, Castiel was on his back staring at the ceiling, study notes forgotten. A single tear snuck out of the corner of his eye, trickling down his cheekbone and hitting the pillow.

_He doesn’t even like you._

_He thinks you’re a freak._

_Maybe you_ are _a freak._

What Dean had said to him about his sexuality was entirely untrue. Just because Castiel was more discerning than most about who he slept with (that is, he hadn’t had sex in over a year because he hadn’t been attracted to anyone at all), it didn’t mean he couldn’t – as Dean so crassly put it – ‘get it up’.

Dean was the only person he wanted to be with. However, the possibility of that happening seemed less and less likely with every day that passed. Right now it seemed impossible.

Sighing, Castiel picked up the phone and hit speed dial number 2, wincing when a familiar voice answered cheerfully. “Yello, this is SwagCentral, you’re speaking with the Swagmaster, how may I help you?”

“Gabriel? You aren’t funny. Can I come over?” Castiel asked. There was a beat of silence.

“Sure, kiddo! I’ll throw on the old ‘Les Mis’, we can make a night of a good old singalong! What’s the issue?”

“Dean,” was all Castiel said as he pulled on a pair of shoes. Gabriel snorted.

“Again? Cassie, you really need to get over that boy.”

Castiel glared at his phone. “I know, okay? I know.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

“What died in your ass?” was the first thing that came out of Bobby’s mouth when Dean stormed into the house, sitting down forcefully and glaring at the blank television screen.

“Nothin’,” he snapped. “Just needed to get away for a couple hours. What’s up?” He looked around, nodding to the group of family friends perched around the room. He noticed a new face among them. “Who’re you?”

The girl sitting next to Sam shot him a brilliant – if slightly nervous – smile. “Hi, I’m Jess,” she said, and Sam gave him a wide-eyed look. “Sam asked me over to help him study.”

Dean’s bad mood all but dissipated. “Oh, _you’re_ Jess?” He smiled evilly, and could sense Sam’s immediate panic. “Has Sammy asked you out yet?”

Jess smirked. “I’m still waiting, but I’m hoping it’ll be any day now.”

Everyone in the room, sans Sam, burst out laughing. Sam went the colour of a beetroot, and Jess grabbed his hand and pulled him upstairs. “Come on, nerd, let’s go study.”

“Use protection!” Dean hollered, and Sam sent him a glare that definitely meant, in no uncertain terms, _I will kill you later_.

Whatever. It was worth it. Dean, still grinning, looked at where Bobby, Ellen and Jo were at the table looking at him with concern, and the grin faded quickly.

“What?”

“You okay, son? You were in one hell of a mood just now.”

Dean shrugged. “’m fine. Had an argument with Cas, it’s fine.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Jo asked, and Ellen tutted at her daughter while Dean’s scowl made a resentful return.

“No.”

“Do you want him to be?”

“Do you want me to show you the exact definition of ‘Indian Burn’?” Dean shot back, and Jo changed the subject quickly.

“Mom made pie.”

Less than five minutes later, Dean was sat at the kitchen table with a steaming piece of apple pie in front of him, fork in hand. He licked his lips and looked at Ellen.

“Thanks, Aunt Ellen. You, uhh... got a recipe? Might need it later in life.” He paused, reconsidering his words. “I say ‘might’, but I mean ‘if I don’t have it I’ll die.’”

Ellen snorted. “I’ll write it down and give it to you when you next visit. Deal?”

“Awesome.”

The four of them chatted about Dean’s studies for the next half hour, Dean relishing the taste of the pie and the simple joy of being around his family.

“You going to all your lectures?” Bobby asked. Dean chewed slowly, swallowing before answering.

“Most.”

“What do you mean, ‘most’?” his uncle frowned, making Dean duck his head guiltily.

“Sometimes I gotta work. Clashes and all that.”

Bobby sighed through his nose, and Ellen looked ready to lay into him.

“Dean,” Bobby grumbled, “if school and work are at the same time, you gotta tell me so you can reschedule your hours, ya idjit! Show me your damn timetable and we’ll sort it, you can’t let a temporary job stop you from getting the grades you need for the career you actually want.”

Dean laid his fork on his white china plate, which had been scraped clean with the utmost precision. He nodded. “Fine. I’ll sort it. I should go – got some catching up study to do.” He got up to leave, but was stopped by Ellen.

“You do that. And whatever’s goin’ on with your friend that has your panties in a twist, you sort that out too, you hear? We want you to be happy.”

He hung his head and allowed her to hug him, feeling small in the warm circle of her arms despite the fact that he was far taller than her. “Yeah, okay.”

The drive back to campus took much too long without his best friend in the seat beside him. Dean gave it a longing glance, wondering what it would take for Castiel to forgive him for what he had said.

_I’m an idiot._

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

The silence between them, as it turned out, lasted less than a day. Dean shuffled into history in the morning looking intentionally sheepish, and walked over to where Castiel had tucked himself into a corner. He stared at the ground.

“Um. Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel answered curtly, not looking up.

Dean shuffled his feet.

“I’m a dick.”

Castiel looked up. “Yes, you are.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry.”

Castiel paused. “Okay then.”

“Can we be friends again?!” Dean burst out, feeling like he was in third grade all over again.

A slow smile crept over Castiel’s face, transforming it entirely. “Dean, I will always be your friend.”

Dean beamed and sat down, and Castiel’s heart gave a small flop of helplessness. He pushed his notes over so that they sat between the pair of them, and Dean’s smile turned grateful. At this, Castiel gave a small eye roll. “I doubt they’ll be very helpful, I was quite frustrated when I wrote these.”

Dean scanned them. Next to a bunch of bullet points about the French Revolution were some dark scrawls, written as if the pen had been pushed so far into the paper it had almost snapped.

_DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING MOTHERFUCKERS_

_NO_

_THE PEOPLE ARE DEAD_

_FUCK HISTORY_

_FUCKING MARIE ANTOINETTE I’LL SHOW HER WHAT SHE CAN DO WITH HER FUCKING CAKE_

_The French Revolution was caused by a mix of class envy, poverty, and a desire for democracy, as well as ideals promoted by the Age of Enlightenment._

_Also it was a fucking FAILURE._

Dean couldn’t help it – he burst out laughing.

He was still laughing quietly when, not two minutes later, Lisa wandered over, looking directly at Dean.

“Hey, Dean,” she said shyly. Dean looked at her in genuine surprise; he’d completely forgotten to call or text her in lieu of the mini-fight he’d had with Castiel, opting to mope around his room the entire night in his boxers and a blanket working out how to apologise without kissing him.

“Uh, hey Lis,” he said.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked, sliding in next to Dean when he nodded silently and shifted along the bench to make room. Castiel found himself crammed into the wall by Dean’s bulk, and glowered at his hands.

“So, uh, I’m sorry I didn’t call or anything,” Dean said nervously and running a hand through his hair. “Some family stuff came up and yeah.”

“Oh, really?” Castiel heard Lisa respond. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, my brother was being stupid and...”

Castiel blocked out what Dean was saying. _So now I’m his ‘stupid brother’. Great._

The next hour was going to be very long.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

Another month passed, and Dean and Lisa were now _dating_ (to Dean’s everlasting surprise). Castiel tried not to feel too resentful as his feelings for Dean only grew deeper, and he was forced to watch his best friend act all... coupley with her. It wasn’t Lisa’s fault – she was nice ￼enough – but every time Castiel spoke to her his insides boiled and he became stiff and awkward. He knew Dean noticed, knew it annoyed him that his best friend and his girlfriend didn’t get along, but he stopped caring.

He was walking through the campus one dry evening – alone, because Dean had decided that he was staying the night with Lisa _again_. He was just thinking about stopping by at the liquor store before going home, when a girl appeared in front of him. She was short, with dark curly hair and a sly red smile that curled upwards when their eyes met. He vaguely recognised her from his Early Childhood Education class – she’d ‘borrowed’ his eraser once, and he’d never seen it again. His brow furrowed and he continued to walk.

“Hey, Clarence,” she drawled, heart-shaped face only serving to make her smile even more intimidating. Castiel stopped in his tracks.

“Um, I think you might have me confused with someone,” he mumbled, moving to step around her. She stopped him with a leather-clad arm.

“Nah, I just think the name suits you. I’m Meg. Wanna hang out?”

“Um.” He checked his watch. “I know who you are - I’m meant to be studying—“

She rolled her eyes and tugged at his arm. “Come on, live a little! I know a great place – you know, the student bar downtown? They got a karaoke night tonight, and I just know you’ll _lurrrrve_ the Air Supply mix they’ve got going on.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “Because singing Air Supply to my fellow students is exactly what I dreamed of. Thank you so much for being able to read my thoughts and understand this.”

She snorted. “Well, I’ve been promised free booze and burgers for the night - my sister Ruby works there - so feel free to come along and knock yourself out.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes, fully aware how irresponsible agreeing to go with her could turn out to be. But... free alcohol. And food. God knew he could do with a drink. He shrugged and followed her.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

Meg quickly became Castiel’s friend, much to Dean’s horror.

“Dude! She’s bad news!” he hissed at his friend as she approached them in the Roadhouse, ignoring the annoyed frown Castiel shot him. CCR played softly on the background speakers, mixing with the quiet hum of conversation from the other patrons. “Are you guys fucking or something? I heard she completely destroyed her ex, he came away fucked up like you wouldn't believe. You might wanna stay away from her. And when I say might, I mean definitely.”

Castiel huffed and looked down at the wooden grain of the table they were sat at. “Dean, Meg is my friend. She actually has time for me, unlike certain people I could mention.” He said it meaningfully, and Dean turned a faint pink. “And Luke’s condition isn’t that bad, plus they never even dated. She told me.”

“Still bad news,” Dean grumbled to himself, and he picked at his fries, swirling them in a thick layer of ketchup. This went entirely unnoticed by Castiel, who became distracted, standing up and hugging Meg in greeting.

Meg shot Dean a lascivious wink. “‘Sup, Deanie. How’s it hanging?”

He glared. “Don’t call me that.”

“Dean.” Castiel’s tone was chastising.

Dean bit his lip and looked out the window. “Whatever. I gotta go. Things to do, people to see,” he muttered. “Sorry for being a third wheel or whatever, enjoy your _date_.”

He practically ran out of the diner, leaving his food practically uneaten and shooting a half-hearted wave at Jo, who frowned at him and went into the kitchen to talk to her mother.

Castiel sighed and focused on Meg.

“Is... is this a date?” he asked hesitantly.

Meg’s mouth pouted around the straw she had in her mouth, slurping on the milkshake. “Do you want it to be?” she replied.

There was a pause as Castiel thought about it. “I’m not sure. I’m not very good at dating. And I—”

“Yeah, I know. We can take it slow,” Meg said kindly. “I like you, Clarence. I’d like to give this a try, if you want.”

Castiel heard the rumble of the Impala’s engine slowly fade away. He thought about Dean, and about how much Dean disliked Meg. He thought of how he had seen Dean and Lisa that morning, pressed against the wall in a passionate embrace. His stomach twisted and he looked back up at Meg. She looked quite different from her normal demeanour – anxious as she waited for him to reply.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I would like that.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

Dean called Lisa from the car.

“Babe? Can I come over?” he asked. He heard Lisa sigh, and a muffled male voice in the background asked something. “Is someone there?”

“What? No, I’m watching TV,” she said quickly. “Sure, you can come over. What’s wrong?”

“I dunno, feeling like shit and wanted to see you. I don’t have to, if you’d rather be alone it’s cool. I’m just... having a crappy day. Cas was kind of an asshole, Sammy’s too busy for me with his new girlfriend, and my dad’s still ignoring me, you know? I… I miss you.”

“It’s fine, Dean. You can come over, I just need a shower first,” Lisa said, sounding somewhat resigned. Dean felt a throb of something – fear? – in his stomach, but stifled it.

“Okay, I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Awesome,” Lisa said, and hung up before Dean could reply. He stared at the phone in his hands.

_Yeah. Awesome._

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

A week later Dean stood in the optometrist’s office, staring at the doctor in horror.

“They cost _how_ much?!” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “I can’t afford-- I don’t need ‘em that bad anyway!”

The optometrist – Dr. Tapping – sighed and raised her eyebrows. “Mr Winchester, if you wish to be able to continue driving your car, and have the ability to read and write legibly, you require glasses. You won’t need to wear them permanently, just for when you are reading, studying, driving and possibly working. Your eyesight has weakened significantly since we last saw you – you’ve taken on a greater workload and this has put strain on your eyesight.”

Dean scowled. “Give me two minutes.” He strode outside and called Bobby, who picked up after the third ring.

“What is it?”

“Bobby, I’m pickin’ up my glasses, and they – son of a bitch!,” Dean burst out, speaking in broken sentences out of frustration. “I can’t afford glasses! Can I take a couple of extra shifts?”

“No.” Bobby growled.

“Bobby, please! They’re saying I can’t—“

“You won’t pick up any more shifts – you’re almost running yourself into the ground as it is with study, work and that girlfriend of yours. Tell them to send the bill to me.”

“But—“

“Do it!”

Dean sighed and hung up.

_Fucking great._

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

Dean stormed into Bobby’s house that evening, a pair of wide-lensed glasses sitting on his nose and framing his eyes with black rims. Sam choked on his water.

“Dude, what—“

“I can take care of myself, you know!” Dean shouted at Bobby, who rose to his feet. Ellen and Jo, sat either side of him at the kitchen table, stared.

“I know you can!” Bobby snapped. “But it’s okay to ask for help, Dean! You don’t have to be alone, dammit! We’re your family!”

Dean spun on his heel and walked out, forcing Bobby to roll his eyes and follow.

“Stay here,” he warned the other three. Sam and Jo looked at one another helplessly, and when Sam went to stand up and follow, Ellen simply reached out and gently pushed him back into his seat.

“Let them talk,” she said quietly. Sam nodded and returned to his broccoli, mind full of concern for his older brother.

On the porch, Bobby folded his arms and raised his eyebrows at Dean, whose shoulders were hunched in his overlarge leather jacket. The sandy-haired man pushed his glasses up his nose as the wind blew through the salvage yard, making him shiver against the sudden cold.

“What’s going on, Dean?” Bobby asked. Dean shrugged.

“Family. Mom died, Dad kicked me out, he beat the crap outta me and Sammy. I barely see Sam any more. Cas is ditching me for Meg, and Lisa... at first she was clingy as hell, but now most of the time it’s like she’s sick of me. Everyone gets sick of me, even my family, so I don’t know why you’re even bothering.” He sank down into the musty cushions of the porch swing, and the frame creaked beneath his weight. “I don’t even know what I’m doing any more.”

Bobby adjusted the hat on his head and carefully considered his answer. “Your momma dying was a horrible accident, Dean. Your dad... he’s barely your dad any more, and he don’t deserve that title. Sam is fine, he asks about you all the time, you just gotta find the time to see him, is all! I don’t know what the hell is going on with Cas, but you sort it out. He’s your best friend, and he’s the only one I know who can talk sense into you. Just talk to him – I’m sure he ain’t ditching you, that boy thinks the sun shines outta your ass. And if Lisa’s acting like that, she doesn’t deserve you. You deserve a lot better than someone who’ll treat you like shit. No one thinks you’re incapable, Dean. You need to get it into your thick head that we care about you and just want to help. You hear me?”

Dean nodded, staring at the ground. “Yeah. Okay. Can I see Sam?”

Bobby rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the house.

When he got into the lounge and saw Sam on the couch, Dean gave a small wave. “Heya, Sammy, wanna hang?”

Sam launched himself at his brother. “Dean! Can you help me study for my chem final?”

Dean allowed himself to be pulled upstairs, thanking whatever higher power there was for endlessly forgiving younger brothers. “Sure, dude,” he said with a smile. “Just tell me what to do.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

“Hey, Cas,” Dean muttered later that night, standing uncertainly in the doorway. Castiel looked up and blinked. Dean had glasses?

“Hello, Dean. Um?”

“Yeah, optometrist yesterday. Apparently my eyes were going bad or something,” Dean said, trying to make himself as small as possible. His friend frowned.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

A shrug. “You seemed kinda busy with the whole Meg thing, so I didn’t wanna bother you. Don’t laugh at me, okay?”

Castiel shifted over on his bed, allowing room for Dean to sit next to him. “Why would I laugh? If your eyes need assistance, that isn’t something to laugh about. And I always have time for you, Dean. You could have told me.”

Eyes closed, Dean allowed his head to fall onto Castiel’s shoulder as they leaned against the wall. Castiel ignored the flutter in his chest at the action. “Thanks, man. You’re awesome,” Dean said sleepily. He yawned, and Castiel smirked. “What? I’m tired as hell. So what’s new?”

Nails dug into Castiel’s palm as he twisted his hands. “I think I’m dating Meg.”

_Oh._

Dean stiffened slightly, just enough for Castiel to notice. “You… you think?”

“Yeah. She said she wants to. I thought I may as well try it.” Castiel did his best to sound off-handed about it, but Dean – as always – didn’t miss the doubtful tone.

“You sound so optimistic about it,” he replied, also trying and failing to sound light.

The solid wall behind Castiel kept him grounded enough for him to think of a response that didn’t include the words ‘I wish she was you’ in it. “I’m not good at dating. I’ll probably ruin it all, so don’t worry,” he said bitterly. “I’m awkward and annoying and the only family I can speak to is Gabriel, and he’s got enough going on with his business and Baldur half the time, so I don’t see him as often as I’d like even though he’s a ten minute drive away, and you and Meg are pretty much my only friends these days, and if the dating Meg thing falls through – which it will – I’ll just have you, because your other friends—” _Lisa_ “—don’t appear to like me very much. Oh, and Sam, but he’s four years younger than us so I doubt he really counts.”

A soft snore interrupted him, and he looked down at where Dean was slumped against him. Gently, he laid Dean down so that he was flat on the bed, tucking him in carefully and grabbing an extra blanket and cushion. He turned off the lights before curling up in the armchair underneath the windowsill, allowing himself a moment to gaze at Dean’s face and smile fondly at how unreserved Dean was around him, before drifting asleep too.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

Dean approached Lisa as she stood over by the door to the lecture hall, talking to a redheaded girl named Anna who gave Dean an appreciative look when he reached them. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, hey Lis,” he began. She turned to look at him, and raised her eyebrows.

“Dean, what the hell are you wearing?”

“Oh. Um. Glasses? The optometrist said I needed them.” He pushed them up his nose self-consciously.

“Yesterday? I told you I was gonna go, remember?” An odd fear – the same one he’d felt a week before when asking to go to her place – gripped his heart, and he saw Castiel looking at him from over where he was talking to Meg, concern written all over his face..

Lisa shrugged. “Oh well. They make you look kinda geeky.” She moved in to kiss him anyway, and Dean kissed her back, his desperation – _please don’t be another person who leaves me_ – seeping into the kiss, despite the gross feeling of her sickly sweet strawberry lipgloss smearing across his mouth. As they pulled away from each other, something – disinterest? – flitted across her face, and he offered a small smile.

Just as the students from the lecture before theirs filed out, Dean saw Castiel give Meg a tiny, shy peck on the cheek. The pang in his heart at that was nothing, however, to what he felt when he saw Meg turn her head and kiss Castiel full on the lips. Castiel froze, shocked, before apparently regaining his senses and kissing her back forcefully, sealing their mouths together and pushing the pleased brunette against the cinderblock wall.

“Dean, are you okay? You look really pale,” Lisa’s voice broke through the horror that filled him, and his stomach churned.

“Yeah, I’m not feeling so flash today, sorry. I’ll talk to you later,” he managed, and ran out, heading for his dorm room.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

It was strange, Castiel mused, that people were able to kiss one another like this when they felt absolutely nothing at all towards them. No matter how hard he tried, he simply was unable to feel any sort of attraction towards Meg outside of friendship. As he pulled away from her, the absolute _wrongness_ of her mouth against his struck him, and he frowned.

Meg sighed. “Nothing?”

He let go of her, and they stood awkwardly by the wall. “I’m sorry,” he said.

She shrugged. “It’s fine, no biggie. Can’t blame me for trying!” The other students went into the hall, and Castiel looked around.

“Where is Dean?”

Lisa, who was walking past, rolled her eyes and jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “He left, said he wasn’t feeling well. What’s with him lately? He’s no fun anymore.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side as he appraised her. “Why do you not care more? He’s your boyfriend.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right. He spends most of his time working or with you and his brother. He should be worried about me finding someone who actually has the time to be with me, it’s pathetic!” And with that, she strode inside, leaving Castiel to stare after her with worried eyes.

“Does that mean what I think it means?” he asked Meg.

“I think so, yeah. He might not like me very much, but Deanie definitely deserves better than that. Go find him.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s yell could be heard halfway across the campus. “No, seriously, what the fuck, Lisa?!”

“Dean, let’s face it. You’re a shitty boyfriend. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was Castiel you were dating! Can you blame me for this?!”

"That's not the point! You cheated on me with _Victor_! He's a total douchebag! He—”

"Has time for me over his best friend for once? Yeah!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you right back!”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

Dean found himself in a nondescript, seedy-looking bar. The guy barely looked at him when Dean asked for a whiskey, and soon enough he was downing his second finger and paying a hefty amount of attention to the guy across the room who was eyeing him up.

Making the most of his liquid courage, Dean swaggered over and sat down across from the other man. “Hi,” he said, a cheeky grin appearing. The man – slightly scrawny, dark hair, brown eyes – gave him a shy smile back.

“Hi.”

“I’m Dean.”

“Aaron.”

“Wanna get out of here?”

“My place is right around the corner.”

It all happened pretty quickly after that. The highlights included some drunken fumbling in Aaron’s doorway, the sloppy slide of mouths against one another, a slim hand working the both of them to the point of ecstasy. Dean vaguely recalled sighing out the name of the one person he wanted there the most, and Aaron giving a small, sad smile afterwards, before calling him a cab to take him back to campus. He somehow made it into his room and collapsed onto his bed, smelling of sex, alcohol and tears.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

Castiel knocked on Dean’s door the following morning with a cup of coffee in either hand, and a paper bag with toasted bagels wedged awkwardly under his elbow. From behind the door, there came a muffled thump, followed by a long stream of muttered curses. Finally, the door cracked open a fraction and a bleary, bloodshot eye peered out, squinting in order to make out the figure before him.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said with an anxious smile. “I thought you might need this.” He stuck out a hand, and the scent of strong black coffee – exactly how Dean liked it – wafted up to reach Dean’s nose. He grumbled incoherently and opened the door to allow Castiel inside, bearing the coffees as if they were sacred.

Once the door was closed and Dean was back on his bed, Castiel took stock of how his friend looked. Dean’s normally clear, bottle-green eyes were squinty and tired behind the wonky glasses he had shoved on his face, his freckled skin pale and lips unusually thin and lifeless. Castiel cocked his head, voice becoming sympathetic as he spoke.

“Dean, what happened?”

Dean frowned into his coffee. “Lisa isn’t my girlfriend any more. I went out, got tipsy, there was... someone, and then I came home. I laughed, I cried, I got drunk. It was a thrilling saga.” His voice was flat and Castiel felt the band around his heart tighten at the mention of the ‘someone’ from Dean’s lips. “How did you know to come here anyway?”

There was a touch of heat in Castiel’s cheeks and he pulled out his phone. “Um, I got a text last night from your phone.” He held it out for Dean to read.

_From: Dean_  
 _Received: 2:01am_  
 _Your boyfriend’s kind of drunk, I’ve called him a cab to get him home safely, don’t worry._

Castiel shrugged. “I didn’t bother correcting them, it seemed kind of pointless. Why did they think we were dating?”

A haunted look flashed across Dean’s face, and his lip quirked into a brief smile, like he was remembering something only halfway pleasant. But he shook his head and the expression vanished entirely, determined to not let his reaction show. “I dunno, but at least I got free coffee. Thanks for that, by the way. You’re... you’re a good friend.”

Any hope of Dean suddenly declaring a newfound love for him was dashed, and Castiel simply gave a weak smile. “I know. Hurry up and shower, or we’ll be late.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

Fifteen minutes later, they walked to their history lecture together. Dean gripped his bag like his life depended on it, dreading the moment he would see Lisa.

“So what exactly happened between you two?” Castiel asked cautiously.

Dean looked at him out the corner of his eye. “Well, I went to see her a couple of hours after you told me what she said, and I walked in on her and Victor.”

Castiel stopped dead in his tracks. “Victor? Seriously?”

“Mmhmm. And so we had it out, she told me how shitty I am at being a boyfriend and how bad I am at life in general, and I left.” Dean purposely left out what Lisa had said about him and Castiel. _No need for him to know, he doesn’t want me._

“Oh. I’m sorry, Dean.” Castiel rested a hand on Dean’s shoulder and they looked at each other for a long, drawn-out moment.

Dean eventually let out a humourless laugh. “Sorry for what? It’s not like any of it was your fault.” Dean tried to keep walking, but Castiel stopped him.

“I know, but it still... sucks. You deserve better than her, Dean.” When Dean simply gave a half-hearted shrug, Castiel rolled his eyes and hugged him. It was slightly awkward at first – Castiel wasn’t very experienced at hugging, and Dean was initially too surprised to do anything – but they eventually relaxed into it, each holding on a little longer than necessary and savouring the feel of being in one another’s arms. It was ruined, however, when Castiel casually added, “Meg agrees with me, and you _were_ kind of a dick to Lisa.”

Dean froze before pulling away. “What, so you’re just parroting what your girlfriend says to make me feel better? Nice.” He turned to walk away, but was once more stopped by Castiel’s hand on his arm.

“Dean, Meg and I... aren’t a thing. I mean, we were, but now we aren’t. I tried kissing her and I felt nothing. She’s okay with it.”

The brief flare of joy Dean felt at this was quickly extinguished by Castiel’s next words, when he took Dean’s silence as a cue to continue. “It happens. I don’t think I’ll try dating again in a hurry.”

“Oh. Well, good for you, I guess.” Dean was at a loss for words. “Or not, it kinda sucks. Um, I don’t think I’m gonna go to history, might just… walk around. Or drive. Clear my head a bit.”

 _Did I do something wrong? Or is it just that he’s still upset about Lisa?_ Castiel wondered. Aloud, he simply said, “O-Okay, Dean. Um, have fun, I suppose. Text me if you want some company. I’ll take down some notes for you.” Castiel smiled and walked away, leaving Dean in the middle of the path.

Dean exhaled heavily through his nose, then turned around and headed to where the Impala was parked.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

Dean was browsing the music store in town when he heard a familiar drawl behind him. “Hey, brother.”

He turned around, smiling. “Benny! What’s up? Been a while, man.”

The southerner grinned as he pulled Dean into a one-armed hug. “Same old, same old. Won a tae kwon do championship, lost a tooth. Andrea broke up with me, said there’s better fish than me out there. Huh! Heard somethin’ similar happened with you and Lisa? That’s a damn shame.”

Dean lifted his palms up as he shrugged. “Eh, what can you do. Shoulda seen it coming.”

His friend frowned and put his arm around Dean’s shoulder. “Now, that ain’t true. Come on, let’s go get a burger.”

They headed out to the Roadhouse in the Impala, catching up on what had happened since they last saw one another at Benny’s graduation. Dean felt a flash of guilt – Castiel wasn’t Benny’s biggest fan, and Dean had told him he wanted to be alone – but it wasn’t like Dean had to tell Cas everything that happened, geez.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

An hour later, they walked through the back alley to the parking lot, Dean twirling the keys in one hand as he laughed at Benny’s story of how he’d won the tae kwon do championship after being kicked in the teeth during the interval by a goat that had broken loose. He’d gone back in and a tooth had fallen out and he’d almost choked, spitting it out before taking out his opponent with one hand. Before they reached the parking lot though, Benny slowed to a stop, and the laughter died down as they looked at one another, Benny biting his lip.

“Benny? What’s—” Dean’s words were cut off by Benny’s mouth against his own, glasses pushed into the skin around his eyes by the force of it. It was hot and rough, his lips scratched by Benny’s stubble, and he tasted of cheeseburgers. Dean pushed him away forcefully. “Dude, what are you doing?”

His friend looked visibly upset. “Shit, sorry. I thought... I dunno. Thought we mighta had something. Hoped. Guess I was wrong.”

Completely bewildered by this revelation, Dean stepped back. “Yeah— Yeah, you were. Wrong, I mean. Um, look... Benny. It’s cool. We can— We can still just be friends, right?”

Benny was now fully blushing, and he rubbed his chin nervously as they continued to walk. “Yeah, shoulda known – you’re too hung up on Castiel anyway.”

“Wait, what?” Was he really that obvious?

As if reading his thoughts, Benny gave a sad smile, much like the one Aaron had sent his way. “You two don’t look at anyone the way you look at each other. Dunno why you haven’t started dating already, to be honest.”

Dean blinked. “You know he doesn’t feel that way, right?”

This earned him a scoff from Benny as they reached the car. “Yeah, right. If he’d seen what just happened, he would’ve punched me.”

Dean was mostly silent on the drive back to campus.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

“He _kissed_ you?!” Castiel was doing his best to disguise his fury as surprise, but seriously? He couldn’t even have the courage to tell Dean he might want something more, and Benny got to just go and kiss him?!

Dean nodded miserably. “It was so awkward. I mean, he’s my friend, you know? It was just so... weird. This is why I don’t date friends! Or anyone! Fuck dating. Just... ugh.” He fell back onto his bed and scowled, leaving Castiel to spin absently in the desk chair.

“I took notes,” Castiel said abruptly. “For you. You missed English, too. You should probably stop missing lectures – I can’t study for the both of us, you know.” As he spoke, he tossed a file at Dean, which landed on Dean’s stomach. Dean lifted a few pages up and groaned.

“Shit, dude. Sorry, I’m a terrible friend. I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to, Dean – you don’t ‘owe’ me anything, that’s not what friendship is about. I help you because I care, and you lecture me about pop culture because you care.”

“I know, but still. Movie marathon tonight? I’ll provide the ‘Star Wars’ if you provide the popcorn.” He sat up and grinned at his best friend. His hair was in a complete disarray, eyes bright. Seeing that, Castiel’s heart softened.

“Sure,” he said to Dean. “As long as you promise to come with me to lectures.”

“Deal.”

Dean lifted up the file Castiel had thrown at him, examining the design properly. “Your stuff is covered in bees. And flowers. I thought you should know.”

His friend went red. “I like bees. You know this. At home— at my parents’ house,” he corrected himself, “I kept bees. They pollinated my mother’s flower beds and made them healthy. Bees are an important part of the planet’s ecosystem. Did you know that if it weren’t for bees, the mammalian population of Earth would die? And they’re rapidly becoming extinct, which is why it’s important that we preserve their lives as much as we can. Also they have a job system! They assign jobs based on age, and—”

“Woah, chill!” Dean held his hands up placatingly, eyes wide. “We have, in fact, established that you like bees.”

Castiel went, if it were possible, an even deeper red than before. “And flowers.”

“Yeah. Nice.” Dean had half-forgotten that, but the memory of the poster on Castiel’s wall waved a little flag at him.

_Bees and flowers. Figures._

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

Another few weeks passed in much the same fashion. Dean was dragged to his lectures by Castiel, and his assignments began to achieve higher marks, thanks to Castiel’s single-minded focus in helping Dean study. However, Dean was also managing to flit from girl to boy to girl to _other_ around campus in an effort to forget how he felt about Castiel, and Castiel was becoming sick of seeing Dean sneak out of yet another window as he walked to the coffee shop down the street.

He confronted him one night about four weeks after his breakup with Lisa, bursting in on Dean just as he was leaving the bathroom after a shower, towel around his waist. Dean jumped a foot in the air, clutching the towel to himself and blushing as he blinked and his blurred vision that told him yes, it was his best friend who had just barged in.

“Geez, Cas! You ever learn to knock?!” The way the water slid down his bare skin, trailing over the delicate skin of his eyelids, dripping off his eyelashes before continuing its inexorable descent and trickling down his chest was very distracting. Castiel’s mouth went dry and he licked his lips before remembering why he was there.

“You do have a lock on the door, Dean. If you don’t want to be disturbed I suggest using it,” Castiel said, before he sat himself down on the bed and studied the carpet. He was unwilling to look up and let Dean see how red his own cheeks were at the sight of Dean in nothing but a towel, with a blush that steadily rose up his freckled chest and reached his hairline. Castiel put together enough breath to say, “I need to talk to you.”

There was a noticeable hitch in Dean’s breath at these words as he turned to grab his clothes. “Yeah? What about? Are you sick of me or somethin’?” he asked without turning around. “Because if this is a breakup speech, I need to be dressed to hear it. Give me two seconds.”

He disappeared back into the bathroom in a whirlwind of plaid and denim, and emerged a minute later fully dressed, towelling his dripping hair, glasses sliding off the end of his nose. He pushed them back up, seated himself opposite Castiel in his desk chair, and folded his arms. “Alright, hit me.”

Castiel sighed. “Dean, I’m becoming rather concerned by your promiscuity. It’s potentially detrimental to your health, and you’re also hurting these people by simply moving on to the next conquest. I’m worried about you. Are you okay?”

His friend stared at him. “Is this a sex intervention?”

“Dean, please,” Castiel said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many people have you slept with this week?”

Dean paused and thought. “Like, three. So?”

 _SO I WASN’T ONE OF THEM, YOU ASSHOLE_ , Castiel was tempted to yell, but he simply took a deep breath. “Do you even know their names?”

“Anna, Rick, Cassie,” Dean rattled off promptly. “I mean, Cassie was cool and all, but not really for me, you know?” He shrugged, not mentioning the fact that he’d only really slept with her so that he could say “Cas” and pretend it was the man across from him now. Cassie had been funny and sweet, and he felt a faint pang of regret at not being able to give her what she deserved in a relationship. “So, what? You think I’m a slut or something?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Dean, I just want to know why you feel the need to have sex with every attractive person you see.” _Aside from me, one of the people who could actually care for you as well_ , he mentally added.

The floor became the unwilling recipient of the Dean Winchester Glare 5000, complete with the Deluxe Thin Lips. “I dunno, it feels good. I kinda like being wanted on occasion, sue me. Look, if it bothers you, I’ll stop. I’m not addicted or anything, come on.” He gave a short laugh, and Castiel smiled.

“I’m just worried you’ll get hurt, Dean. That’s all. I want you to be happy. Also, guess—”

There was a knock at the door. Dean and Castiel turned to one another, and Castiel shrugged.

“It’s unlocked,” Dean called, and the door swung inwards, revealing the last person Dean expected to see.

“Hi, Dean,” John Winchester said. “Long time, no see.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

“Dad?” Dean stood up, and almost every trace of the Dean Winchester Castiel had grown to know and love began to disappear. His face hardened, his posture became defensive; beneath it all, Castiel could see the scared boy that Dean had learned to shield behind sarcasm, humour and a toughened shell that was still so fragile underneath it all. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Castiel readied himself to jump in between the pair of them if anything happened, but before he could say anything John looked at him and sneered.

“This your boyfriend, Dean? What would your mother say?”

At these words, Dean almost cracked. His expression became raw and desperate as he replied in a semi-steady tone, “I guess we’ll never find out, will we? I mean, considering she’s dead and all. Why are you here?”

John straightened up and looked his son dead in the eyes. “Don’t you dare talk about Mary that way.”

“I’ll talk about her however the hell I damn well want!” Dean yelled, flinging his arms out. “I love Mom, I always will, but she’s dead, and I don’t think she’d give a crap about whether or not I was dating Cas if I was happy, because that’s what you’re supposed to care about as a parent! You can’t even be assed asking about why I’m wearing glasses, or who had to pay for them! It was Bobby, by the way, and me ‘n’ him are the ones doing your job where Sammy’s concerned and raising him! So you can shut up and get the hell out, or you can tell my why you’re here and then go, I don’t care either way.”

A beat of silence passed and Castiel looked from one Winchester to the other, gauging their expressions. John shifted his weight from one foot to another before he spoke. “I’m leaving, Dean. I’m going to Minnesota.”

Dean froze. “What?”

“I have another son there. His name is Adam. I met his mother, Kate, the year after Mary...” He trailed off and looked away. “Anyway. I can do right by him, Dean, and I’m going to. I wanted to tell you before I went.”

Castiel sensed Dean’s world was crumbling very rapidly, so he reached out a hand and laid it over where Dean’s rested on the bedpost.

“Y-You have another kid and you’re leaving? Just like that? So, what, you can go beat on this ‘Adam’ kid, too?” He fidgeted. “Have you told Sammy?”

John shrugged. “I might.”

Agitated, Dean stepped forward. “Seriously, what the hell, Dad?! We deserved to know about this! We’re your kids too, or did you forget that?! Sam, he’s your _son_!”

“No, you took him from me!” John retorted, face reddening. Dean looked at him with sheer disbelief.

“You hit him, you asshole! You hit Sammy! The one thing, _the one thing_ that I could rely on at home was that if I was taking it, Sam wouldn’t have to. You hit a kid, the least you could do is give him the satisfaction of knowing you’re abandoning him for good!” Dean was breathing heavily by this point, Castiel staring at him in horror. “Actually, you know what? Just go. Just go to your ready-made fucking perfect family, and don’t ever come near me or Sammy ever again.”

“Dean,” John protested, but Dean cut him off.

“Go.”

To Castiel’s surprise, John left – albeit begrudgingly, shoulders hunched. Castiel made to retract his hand from where it still rested on Dean’s, but Dean gripped it tightly.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he pleaded, finally taking his eyes from the door and looking at his friend pleadingly. “Just come with me to Bobby’s so I can tell Sammy and we can call the cops, Bobby took pictures of Sam’s bruises so we can make sure Dad—” his voice broke slightly, and Castiel watched as he closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and continued “— _John_ doesn’t get to Minnesota and ruin another kid’s life.”

Castiel wanted to say something, but he settled for nodding. “Okay.”

The pair of them headed out to the Impala, and they didn’t let go of the other’s hand until they reached the salvage yard.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

“You’re kidding.” Sam was disgusted. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.”

“Nope.” Dean’s voice was flat. “He’s never coming back.”

There was a pause as Sam digested this, before he went and sat down next to his older brother. “Oh. Are you okay?”

Dean looked at him disbelievingly. “I’m fine, Sammy. Are _you_ okay? I’ve had time to get used to the idea, man.” Bobby, who had been in the kitchen, walked in and handed him a mug of coffee. “Thanks, Bobby.”

Turning back to his brother, Dean took a sip of coffee before continuing. “Can me and Cas hang here for a while and play video games? If that’s okay with you, that is” he added to Castiel as an afterthought, who gave a tired shrug as he leaned against the doorframe. “And if it’s okay with Bobby, obviously.”

“Do whatever the hell you want,” Bobby said as he walked into the kitchen. “Ellen’s working late tonight and Jo’s at a friend’s place, just don’t break anything.”

Sam set up the Wii and they took it in turns playing against each other on Mario Kart – two battling one another while the third alternated between supporting and catcalling them. After two solid hours, Dean stretched, fingertips brushing Castiel’s cheek accidentally-on-purpose from where he was cross-legged on the floor. Castiel resisted the temptation to touch where Dean’s fingers had grazed him, and Sam smirked at him from the other armchair while Dean spoke, oblivious. Castiel shook his head slightly at Sam.

“We should get back, got studying to do before sleep,” Dean yawned. “Coming, Cas?”

They stood up to leave, Sam following them to the porch. When Castiel walked over to the Impala, Sam caught his brother’s sleeve.

“Dean, can I ask you something?”

Dean stopped, frowning. “Sure, what is it?”

Arms folded, Sam raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at Castiel. “Are you gonna ask him out or what?”

“What? I don’t... he doesn’t... you... what?!” Dean spluttered, blushing. Castiel, unable to hear them, looked vaguely concerned and made to walk back.

“Dean, you okay?” he called. Dean flapped a hand at him limply.

“We’re fine, I’ll be a sec,” he replied, throwing him an uneasy smile as he leaned against the rickety porch railing.

“...Okay,” was all Castiel said before sliding into the passenger seat, looking for all the world like he belonged there.

Which he did, in Dean’s not-so-humble opinion.

Dean turned back to Sam, gulping. “Dude, he doesn’t want me like that. Just drop it, okay?”

Sam sighed. “Dean, you like him, he likes you, you’re both head over heels for each other, just get it over with!”

Dean stared at him for a long while. “Listen, Sammy, it’s not as simple as that, okay?” He sighed. “I’m... just... going. Bye.”

He walked away quickly, leaving Sam to glare at the back of his head and puff out his cheeks in frustration, only to exhale and go back inside to study before dinner.

Later that night, he and Bobby would grumble about Dean and Castiel, coming to the agreement that it would take divine intervention for them to confront how they felt for one another.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

“So what were you gonna say, before Dad showed up?” Dean asked Castiel. They were lounging around Dean’s room on Monday night, and he could almost pretend it was a study date – emphasis on ‘date’. Almost.

“Hmm?” Castiel blinked at him. “Oh! Well, it’s the concert next week!” he grinned, and Dean frantically searched his memory banks for something to give him a vague hint of what Castiel was talking about. Finding nothing, he settled for pushing his glasses up his nose.

“What concert?”

“The Michael Bublé one.” Castiel mumbled.

“The... what one?”

Castiel coughed. “The, uhh... the Michael Bublé one.”

“Oh. Cool. You’re going with Gabriel, right?” Yeah, _now_ Dean remembered. Castiel beamed at him.

“Yes. I’m really excited about this. Don’t laugh, okay?”

“What? Why would I laugh?! I mean, it’s not really my style, but whatever.” Dean gave his friend a reassuring smile, and Castiel felt slightly less embarrassed about his next words.

“I couldn’t convince anyone but Gabriel to go with me, and he’s only coming because he felt sorry for me. I know it’s not exactly ‘cool’, but...” He fiddled with his pen, his gaze fixed on the opposite wall rather than where Dean was sprawled out before him. The pen nib displaced, immediately leaking blue ink on his fingers, seeping across his skin. “Fuck.”

“Don’t get ink everywhere!” Dean cried, and grabbed several tissues as he leapt up and darted over. He grabbed the pen and wrapped it in Kleenex before tossing it in the trash, and then grabbed Castiel’s hands to dab at the ink stains on his skin. Castiel’s breath hitched in his throat at the intimate contact, and the back of his neck grew warm as Dean dragged him into the bathroom to wash his hands. “Don’t want ink on my stuff,” Dean said by way of explanation, his own face going slightly red when he realised he was still holding Castiel’s hands.

Castiel smiled to himself as he scrubbed at his hands. “Sorry. I’ll wash it all off, you should know I’m sort of clumsy by now.”

A soft snort from beside him made him glance up, and he saw Dean’s fond smile.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled. “Sort of. Anyway, if Gabriel doesn’t wanna go with you, I can.”

“What?”

“To the concert. You know.” Dean was biting his lip now, looking at him uncertainly. Castiel gave him a shocked look, the water running over his hands going completely disregarded.

“You don’t even _like_ that music, Dean,” he said, unable to think of anything else.

Dean thrust the soap at him. “Hey, I never said that. I just said it wasn’t exactly my thing, because I don’t really listen to it. Don’t mean I don’t like it.”

Castiel was silent for a brief moment, rubbing at his skin intently before replying. “Well, if you’re sure. Are you busy next Saturday night? Not this one, the one after.”

Dean gave him a pointed look. “When am I ever busy on a Saturday night if I’m not hanging out with you?”

His words made Castiel’s stomach do a somersault in triumph. “Fair point. Alright, I’ll call Gabriel.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

That Saturday – exactly one week before the concert – Dean’s sleep-in was rudely interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by a short man with a grin that stretched from one ear to the other. “Deano!”

Dean blinked rapidly, leaning against the doorframe. “…Fuck off, Gabriel.”

“That’s no way to treat your future bro-in-law!” Gabriel pushed his way past the shirtless and yawning Dean, brandishing a small piece of paper. “Got your ticket right here. Please tell me you’re gonna make a move on him, or I might withhold free pastries from both of you.”

Dean, whose brain was still on ‘sleep’ mode, had to rub his eyes several times before he was able to form a coherent response, shutting the door. “What? There’s free pastries? Wait, no, say that first part again.”

“Seriously? All he talks about it how madly in love with you he is. It’s kind of sickening. Just make out already – I’ve seen how you look at him. And come to the bakery more! We have pie!”

“I… wait, what kind of pie?”

Gabriel punched his shoulder. “Focus! What are you gonna do?”

Dean stared at him. “I have no fucking idea. You mean he actually wants me?”

The usually cheerful Gabriel sank onto Dean’s bed with a low groan. “You two are thicker than a whale omelette sometimes. Yes, he wants to date you. He wants to have sex with you as well, he wants to do the horizontal tango every which way there is and more, he wants to bear your adopted children, he wants to make sweet, sweet love to you for the rest of your natural existence and then some. You get the idea?”

“Um. Your words or his?” Dean hadn’t moved, thoughts going a million miles an hour at the concept of Castiel wanting to be with _him_. “Are you sure? I’m not— Is this you with one of your pranks? Because I swear to God…”

Gabriel wordlessly held up his phone so that it was facing Dean, and Dean peered at the screen as he grabbed the device, feeling his eyes widening.

_From: Cassie-Bear Baby Bro_  
 _Received: 2:03am_  
 _Someone texted me off Dean’s phone saying that Dean was my boyfriend?!_

_From: Cassie-Bear Baby Bro_  
 _Received: 2:04am_  
 _Do you think he wants me to be his boyfriend??_

_From: Cassie-Bear Baby Bro_  
 _Received: 2:05am_  
 _I wish he wanted me to be his boyfriend_

_From: Cassie-Bear Baby Bro_  
 _Received: 2:06am_  
 _GABRIEL HURRY UP AND REPLY THIS IS SERIOUS I’M IN LOVE WITH HIM_

_From: Cassie-Bear Baby Bro_  
 _Received: 12:01pm_  
 _Never mind, he was drunk last night and fucked someone – the person who texted me from his phone. False alarm. Don’t laugh at me. Talk later._

Dean handed back the phone, fully wide-awake now. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Gabriel smirked triumphantly. “So, your plan?”

“Um...” Dean had no idea. “I didn’t really… have one? I’ll think of something. Don’t worry.”

Golden eyes narrowed at him, and Gabriel stood up. “It better be good. If you don’t treat my brother like a fucking fairy prince you will live to regret it, Winchester.”

Dean took a step back, eyes wide and hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Dude, all I want is for Cas to be happy.”

“Good. Have fun!” Gabriel’s mood was quicksilver; he was beaming once more, already walking out of Dean’s room. “And don’t forget; I make amazing pie that you might just get for free if you don’t make Cassie cry.”

He bounced out, leaving a somewhat shell-shocked Dean standing in his underwear, gripping a Michael Bublé concert ticket.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

Sam strolled down the hallway Wednesday night, checking the number on each room. He stopped when his phone vibrated, and pulled it out to see a text from Jess:

_From: Jess_  
 _Received: 4:00pm_  
 _Does your brother even know you’re visiting? I thought he had work?x_

He smiled and tapped out a reply.

_To: Jess_  
 _Sent: 4:01pm_  
 _There’s a reason it’s called a surprise visit, I’m bringing him pie before he leaves for work! He doesn’t need warning if it’s surprise pie, trust me. Talk later – I’m almost there. x_

When he reached room 304, he didn’t even bother to knock, he simply pushed to door inwards with his right hand, balancing the cardboard box containing Ellen’s special cherry pie with his left.

“Hey, Dea—” he stopped short, staring. His older brother – his leather jacket and jeans-wearing, Led Zeppelin-loving, classic muscle car-driving older brother – was pulling on a shirt, all the while dancing along to what Sam recognised to be Michael Bublé’s rendition of ‘To Love Somebody’ and singing along. “Um.”

Dean spun around, shirt stuck on his head, one moss-green eye staring frantically through the neckhole at his younger sibling. “Sammy?”

“You like Michael Bublé?” Sam asked quizzically, watching with a grin as his brother struggled with his shirt before finally managing to fit it on properly, putting on his glasses after. Dean glared at him, shoving some papers off his bed so that Sam could sit down. He flicked off the stereo – which Sam noted was stacked with different Bublé albums.

“I’m going to the concert this weekend,” Dean mumbled. His demeanour changed as he saw what Sam held, and he ripped the box out of Sam’s hands, glancing inside with a gleeful expression. “You brought me Ellen’s pie?”

“Yeah, and what?” Sam wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. “You’re doing what now?”

“I’m... going to the Michael Bublé concert on Saturday. With Cas.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but Sam. “I didn’t wanna look like an idiot – thought I may as well listen to some tunes to find out what I was in for.”

“...Sooo you bought every single one of his albums?” Sam asked, getting up to examine the CDs piled haphazardly on the beat-up stereo. “Isn’t that a bit… excessive?”

A shrug. “Nah. Borrowed ‘em from Cas.”

A wicked grin spread across Sam’s face at his brother’s attempt at nonchalance. “You’re gonna tell Cas you luuurve him?”

Dean threw a cushion at his face. “Shut the fuck up, nerd.”

Sam threw it right back. “Jerk. Are you?”

He watched his older brother collapse across the bed. “I may or may not ask him out. I have a plan, okay? So I need for you to say nothing. At all. Please? I don’t wanna fuck up... whatever might happen. So yeah.” Dean shot him a pleading expression, looking so utterly helpless and desperate that Sam took pity on his brother and sighed.

“Yeah, if you need help just let me know.”

Dean sat up. “Thanks, dude. Can you help me? I need to get a nice shirt.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

_An hour later_

“That one makes your eyes look nicer,” Sam said, pointing at the aforementioned shirt that Dean was holding against another.

Dean snorted. “And I thought _I_ was the gay one.” The fluorescent overhead lights paired with the desire to find something that made him look awesome enough for Castiel were clearly making him antsy, and it showed as time wore on, sarcasm getting the better of him.

“Do you want my help or not?!” Sam snapped. “I dunno, man. The dark blue looks good, but the dark green looks better with your nice jeans and stuff. Go with the green. What do you think, Becky?”

The excitable shop assistant – who had latched onto them as soon as they walked in and initially thought that _Sam_ was the one Dean wanted to impress, much to their horror – nodded with agreement. “Sam’s right. The green one looks better.”

“I hate it when he’s right,” Dean mumbled, and he handed the unwanted blue button-down back to the young blonde woman. “Thanks, Becky. I’ll go with this one.”

“Yay!” Becky clapped her hands and led them over to the cashier. “Your boyfriend’s gonna love you in it!”

“Oh, they aren’t dating yet,” Sam said conspiratorially. “Everyone thinks they are, but they’re not yet. That’s what this whole thing is about. Wish him luck!”

“Oh my gosh!” she gushed, and Dean took a wary step backwards. “Good luck!”

“Yeah. Um. Thanks,” he said, and paid. They left very quickly, Sam chortling at his brother’s bashful expression when Becky told him to “use protection and stay safe!”

“Do you really think he’ll say yes?” Dean asked hesitantly once they were back in the car.

Sam shot him a look. “Dude, of course he will. He’s been making moony eyes at you for a long-ass time now, you have nothing to worry about, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said, and put the car into drive.

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

The next few days were stressful for Dean, to say the least. He was torn between anxiety and doubt – what if Castiel wasn’t even interested in him like that? Cas said himself that he wasn’t even willing to try dating, that he didn’t want to be... _intimate_ (all possible connotations of the word) with anyone he didn’t feel emotionally connected to. Dean thought about Castiel, about how smart he was, how funny and witty and downright _awesome_ the dude was without even trying, and any possible hope Dean had for ever being good enough for his best friend went right out the third-storey window, without bothering to take a bungee cord for a triumphant bounce back.

Thankfully, Friday night happened. Dean was walking through the twilit campus after a particularly late tutorial, tapping out a steady jazz rhythm on his thigh in time with the music that was currently emanating through his earbuds.

_Well you can cry me a river,_  
 _Cry me a river,_  
 _I cried a river for you,_

Michael Bublé crooned into his ears, and Dean hummed along before stopping dead when Meg appeared in front of him, seemingly from nowhere.

“Deanie!”

He scowled, good mood evaporating as he pulled one earbud out in order to hear her. “What.”

Meg’s grin faded slightly. “What, where’s my lovely warm greeting? Thought we had something special,” she winked.

“Bite me,” Dean continued to walk, but she stopped him.

“You’re taking Castiel to that concert, right?” Her heart-shaped face wore a concerned expression, more gentle than the harsh, sharp-tongued Meg Dean had accustomed himself to the idea of.

“Yeah, and?”

“He hasn’t stopped talking about it to me since you offered, Dean. He’s real excited, so if you break his heart, I’ll break every bone in your Ken Doll body. Got it?”

“Um…”

“Good.”

“He really hasn’t stopped talking about it?” Dean pressed anxiously.

Meg had a sarcastic retort ready on the tip of her tongue, but at the expression on Dean’s face she sighed. “No, he hasn’t. He has a huge crush on you, I have no idea why. So even if you aren’t going to man up and actually ask the poor guy out, you’d better make it the most magical fucking night of his life.”

“I have a plan!” Dean protested. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with the dude, I want it to be perfect for him.”

Meg gave him a slightly stunned look, checking to see the sincerity of his words. “Well. Good. Because he feels the same.” She began to walk away, the natural sway of her hips not nearly as enticing as it would have been if he wasn’t completely crazy for Cas.

“How do you know, though?!” Dean cried after her. “How do you know how he feels?”

She turned and gave him a disbelieving look. “Because he told me, dumbass. I never thought I’d have to say this to you of all people, but _stop overthinking it_.”

This time, he let her walk away, and he ran back to his room to finish planning exactly how he was going to convince his best friend to date him.

“Flowers,” he muttered. “Cas likes flowers, right?”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

_Saturday night_

Dean knocked on the heavy wooden door of Castiel’s room, biting his lip as he shifted from foot to foot, waiting. Behind his back, one hand gripped a small bunch of flowers bound with a slim white ribbon. There was one of each flower, carefully chosen by Dean: acacia blossoms, ambrosia, arbutus, camellia (one pink, one white, one red), a daffodil, a straggly group of forget-me-nots (they were too hard to get on their own), a gardenia, one particularly fine specimen of jonquil, stock, a red tulip, and last but not least, viscaria.

It had been a bitch to find all the right ones and arrange them properly, and the colours clashed with some of the flowers, but Dean was 100% certain Castiel was worth it. Even if Castiel had no idea what each one meant despite each flower having a small label attached to its stem, stating what it was, he hoped it would at least tell him... something.

He heard a faint shuffling before the door was flung open, revealing a beaming Castiel, hair ruffled and blue eyes bright above the black shirt and jeans he wore.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean was literally struck speechless at the sight, and had to swallow several times before his mouth worked and he stopped blushing. “Um, hey Cas. I um. Brought you these.” He thrust his hand out, brandishing the flowers and staring at the ground, other fist clenched at his side as he waited for Castiel’s reaction.

_Oh god oh god oh god what if he hates them oh god—_

He glanced up under his eyelashes at where Castiel had tentatively stretched out a hand, one finger grazing the delicate curve of the tulip. “Dean, I...” he shook his head, incredulous. “For me?”

“Yeah. Um. Sorry, it’s stupid, I’ll just—” Dean panicked, and began to stammer, hand lowering itself, but Castiel caught his arm, smiling.

“Thank you, Dean.” The pure, honest smile he sent Dean made Dean’s heart throb violently.

_—Shit I’m having a heart attack oh god oh fucking shit—_

Castiel took the flowers from Dean’s grip – which was threatening to crush the stems of the flowers from the nervous pressure he was exerting on them accidentally – and their fingers brushed. Dean immediately hated himself for the way his entire body reacted to this, and he ducked his head and shuffled his feet once more to cover his embarrassment.

“So. You… Are you ready to go?” Dean hovered in the doorway while Castiel darted back inside. Castiel shot him a quick soft smile.

“Yes, I just need to find something to put these in.” He gently stroked one of the flower’s labels – that of the gardenia, in fact – before returning to rummage in a drawer. After a few seconds, he emerged victorious, wielding an empty beer tankard that had the words “OKTOBERFEST 2009 TRINKEN GEWINNER DES WETTBEWERBS GABRIEL NOVAK” embossed on it. “Here!”

Dean snorted. “What the hell is that?”

Castiel frowned as he looked at it. “Gabriel gave it to me. I tend to not question these things. Just let me put water in this and grab my jacket, and we’re good to go.” He did exactly that, and soon enough he was wearing a heavy black formal jacket that matched Dean’s almost perfectly.

The concert was only down the road, so they walked side by side in comfortable silence, the air growing cooler as the day became night. They wandered past the park, trees rustling from the wind, and the pair of them looked at one another sideways, each with a slight smile, before Dean blushed and looked ahead once more. As their arms swung, their hands brushed past each other, and Dean longed to close the distance and take Castiel’s hand.

_Not yet._

After a half hour spent queueing outside, and then five minutes that consisted of Dean pushing his way forcefully through the crowd of people while Castiel tagged along behind him, they were seated almost directly in front of the stage.

Castiel was unable to stop the smile spreading across his face as he gaped at the closed curtains. Dean, who himself was unable to stop staring at Castiel’s face, smiled. “You okay?” he asked, just loud enough for Castiel to hear him. Castiel shot him a manic grin.

“Better than okay, Dean. Thank you,” he replied, still smiling, and Dean shook his head just as the lights went down. There was a hush of silence that fell, then a slow jazz beat that began as a golden spotlight hit the velvet red curtains before them. A smooth, deep voice slowly began to sing.

“ _Birds in the sky,  
You know how I feel…_ ”

An eruption of noise hit Dean’s ears as the entire crowd cheered, one rolling wave of euphoria that perfectly synchronised with the curtains rising in a swift motion to reveal Michael Bublé onstage, smirking as he continued to sing. Dean looked to his side, and Castiel’s eyes were huge as he watched, hands cupping his mouth to contain the smile beneath them. A woman next to Dean jostled him, and he fell into Castiel. The two of them almost toppled, but Dean caught Castiel’s arm and gave the woman a small glare as he ensured that the both of them were upright. However, he was unable to turn his attention back to the singer and continued to watch his friend with a smile on his face.

Half an hour passed, time measured of intervals of song, and Dean was mostly watching how Castiel was enjoying himself instead of enjoying the freaking concert. When the singer started to sing ‘Close Your Eyes’, he couldn’t take it any more; he reached out and timidly skimmed Castiel’s hand with his, waiting to gauge the other man’s response. Castiel looked down, and silently clasped Dean’s hand, eyes shining. Dean’s thumb softly began to stroke the skin there, revelling in how perfect it felt even as his heart was in his throat. Castiel’s grip tightened on his, and finally Dean allowed himself to relax slightly.

Towards the end, Bublé began to encourage people to dance, and people all around Dean and Castiel got up, holding each other. Dean dared to look over at Cas, who was suddenly a deep crimson. Just as Bublé started to sing ‘Save the Last Dance for Me’, Dean abruptly stood, pulling Castiel to his feet as well, and tugged him closer. Castiel’s eyes were wide, and he looked at Dean uncertainly.

“Dean, I can’t dance,” he hissed. Dean swallowed, mouth thick with anticipation.

“I couldn’t either until about a week ago,” he admitted with a murmur. At this, Castiel allowed himself to be pulled in so that their bodies aligned, filling in all the spaces.

“What happened a week ago?”

“...Your brother.”

Castiel balked. “What?”

Dean shrugged. “He paid me a visit, we talked – I ended up looking at some YouTube tutorials for a couple of hours. I kind of suck, but whatever.”

He really was not prepared for Castiel planting a soft kiss on his cheek, and all of a sudden the room – which was packed, anyway – was a whole lot hotter. “I bet you don’t,” Castiel said shyly, and Dean smiled.

They swayed from side to side, arms tight around each other. Then, Dean managed to spin Castiel, dipping him before pulling him upright as they laughed, once again pressed against each other with their hands clasped. Dean leaned closer, and their arms wound around each other again, going back to the easy sway they were doing before.

“This shit’s easy,” Dean mumbled into Castiel’s ear. “Why the fuck did I look at the fancy ass dance moves online?”

Castiel could only laugh in response, burying his face in Dean’s shoulder. They moved like that for a while, and Dean had never been more grateful for stage effects when confetti began to float down and settle over them, as the performer began singing ‘Crazy Love’. He sang along quietly, whispering the words in the hollow of Castiel’s neck like a promise, loving the way Castiel’s arms tightened around his neck.

“ _He gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love…. I give him love, love, love, love, crazy love_ ,” Dean breathed, and he felt Castiel smile into his skin. After a slight pause, Dean spoke again. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

His friend pulled back, frowning. “Why?”

“I... I’m a dick. You’re my best friend, and I’ve been treating you like complete crap when you deserve so much better than that. Better than me. I’ve wanted you – to be _with_ you, to treat you right – for months. And I just. I still don’t even know if you want me. I want this to be perfect, I want you to be happy because you’re... you’re perfect, and you deserve it all, and even if I can’t give you everything, I just want to ask if you’ll give me the chance to try. I mean, I know you said you don’t wanna date anyone, but I’m no one so I just thought—”

Castiel set a hand over Dean’s mouth. “You are not nothing, Dean Winchester. Please stop thinking of yourself like that, and pay attention. I’m not very good with people, or dating. I haven’t dated anyone, not properly, because I didn’t want to. I haven’t felt about anyone the way I feel about you. I thought you’d understand by now; demisexuality doesn’t keep me from experiencing romantic attraction. I fell for you early on. So when I said I didn’t want to date someone, I meant because no one else is _you_. Now, please keep dancing with me, I like this song.”

Dean held on tight to Castiel as he whispered “Okay,” and he never wanted to let go.

The next song was the one Sam had walked in on Dean singing along to – the cover of ‘To Love Somebody’. Dean smiled and began to sway more intently as Castiel made himself at home within the circle of Dean’s arms around his waist. Other couples were dancing around them, and every time Dean remembered that Castiel was dancing with _him_ , that it was _him_ Castiel wanted, his knees became a little weaker.

_I'm a man,_ _Can't you see what I am?_  
 _And I live and breathe for you._  
 _Oh, but what does it do_  
 _If I ain't got you,_  
 _If I ain't got you?_  


_Baby, you don't know what it's like_  
 _Baby, you don't know what it's like_  
 _To love somebody,_  
 _To love somebody,_  
 _The way I love you._  


Dean closed his eyes, alternating between humming along and mouthing the words, knowing exactly how true the words were.

Finally, Bublé announced that he was about to sing the final song for the night, and the crowd groaned. Dean was slightly terrified as the piano started up. He didn’t want this to end. What if, once they were outside, Castiel decided it had all been a big mistake?

His fears abated with astonishing speed when Castiel began singing along, wrapped in Dean’s arms, fingers creeping under Dean’s collar and digging into the skin there.

“ _You're a falling star, you're the getaway car,_ ” Castiel sang. “ _You're the line in the sand when I go too far. You're the swimming pool, on an August day. And you're the perfect thing to say._ ”

And fuck, Dean’s life was one walking cliché, but he refused to care as he sang with Castiel, meaning every single word.

 _“And you play it coy but it's kinda cute. Ah, when you smile at me you know exactly what you do. Baby don't pretend that you don't know it's true. 'Cause you can see it when I look at you._ ”

“ _And in this crazy life, and through these crazy times; It's you, it's you, you make me sing. You're every line, you're every word, you're everything._ ”

They danced on, oblivious to everything but the way it felt so _right_ to hold one another like this, ignoring the way people were looking at them, ignoring the stutter of their breath when Castiel’s stubble grazed Dean’s skin. When the final words were sung, Dean stopped dead and pulled back so that he could look into Castiel’s eyes.

“ _You're every song, and I sing along. 'Cause you're my everything._ ”

Castiel kissed him.

Someone could have used every hackneyed phrase possible to describe Dean’s reaction to this, and it still wouldn’t have been enough. Yes, his world stopped. Yes, his heart skipped a bit (a _lot_ ). Yes, his eyes slid shut and his every sense narrowed down to the feeling of Castiel’s mouth on his, warm and inviting with the promise of more. Yes, he gasped into it, and felt Castiel smile against his mouth. As far as first kisses go, it was the best Dean had ever had, perfect in its chastity and leaving him with the ground ripped out from underneath his feet.

And yes, when Castiel pulled back, eyes shining like stars, Dean chased his mouth slightly with his own, the loss of contact already taking its toll.

“Ngh,” was all he managed to say, before his knees buckled and he had to hold onto Castiel for support. While his friend held him, concerned, Dean breathed in the reassuring scent of rain and musk that was always clinging to Castiel, grounding himself within its familiarity.

“Dean? Are you okay?” Castiel asked, running his hand up and down Dean’s back, while other people cheered wildly for the end of the show. Some were already filing out of the large theatre hall the concert had been in, but their absence didn’t make the cheers any less deafening.

Dean nodded into Castiel’s shoulder. “That uhh... that happened,” he said. _He kissed me he kissed me he kissed me he kissed me..._

“Should I not have kissed you?” Castiel looked slightly frightened, as if afraid he was misread the signs.

“No, that was good. I liked it. We should do it again. A lot,” Dean said, aware he was almost inaudible. Castiel’s relief was palpable, his body relaxing as the large electric lights were suddenly flicked on, the room now lit in stark contrast to the romantic atmosphere of before. “It was awesome.” Dean reluctantly raised his head and looked around at the mumbling crowd. “Shit – we should probably go.”

“Are you alright?”

Great, now Castiel was giving him that look with his enormous blue eyes that made Dean want to do things he shouldn’t want – like wrap him up in a blanket and watch Disney movies all day and act in a way that was so far from the Dean Winchester he had once been, it was scary. He settled for smiling and rubbing his thumb over Castiel’s cheek once more.

“I’m fine, Cas.”

“Can... Can I kiss you again?” Those plush, pink lips were parted slightly as Castiel looked at Dean’s face hungrily, mouth so close to his own. “I would very much like to kiss you, Dean. If you don’t mind.”

Dean didn’t even bother answering – he dived in and pressed his mouth to Castiel’s, feeling the other man sigh happily before kissing him back. They stood there a while, arms desperately trying to pull the other even closer as they angled their heads in order to kiss deeply, tongues earnestly and carefully tracing the seam of their lips before tentatively breaching the entrance of their mouths. Dean helplessly let out a little moan when he felt Castiel and tasted his tongue against his own.

He cradled the back of Castiel’s head carefully, possessively. The careful and determined focus Castiel showed in kiss was a delightfully fierce contrast to anything Dean had experienced before. His entire body shook with fire, the points of contact with Castiel burning more brightly than the rest of him and thrumming with a zing of electricity that made his brain short-circuit and heart thud unevenly.

They broke apart to breathe, Dean momentarily forgetting how to when he took in the expression of wonder gracing Castiel’s face. Castiel’s lean hand lifted to brush Dean’s hair from his forehead and adjust his crooked glasses. A small laugh escaped Dean’s mouth.

“I been waiting so long to do that, Cas,” he said. “Was it okay?”

Castiel, eyes still regarding Dean as if he were the Second Coming of Christ, nodded, smile mirroring Dean’s own. “Dean, if you ask me one more stupid question, I’m telling Sam you nearly fainted after our first kiss.”

Dean gasped, horrified. “You wouldn’t.”

“...Yeah, I know.”

They both smirked at each other, Dean allowing himself one more quick peck on the perfect bow of Castiel’s mouth before dragging him out of the nearly empty hall. “Come on, we should get outta here.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

They walked slowly back to campus under the midnight blue sky, fingers tangled together between them. Dean looked up at the faint smattering of stars that he could only just make out through the light pollution, and a thought occurred to him.

“We should go for a drive,” he said abruptly. At Castiel’s raised eyebrows, he amended, “Not like, now. At some point. Night drive – do some stargazing stuff.”

“Dean Winchester, secret romantic sap,” Castiel mused, a twinkle in his eye. Dean nudged him.

“Actually, I’m just a Castiel sap. But you can go ahead and believe whatever you like.” When Castiel gave him a surprised look, he shrugged. “What? I’ve been in love with you for what, four, five months? It’s not romantic so much as me being completely gone on you.”

Castiel stopped short. “You what now?”

“Um...” Dean let go of Castiel’s hand and scrubbed the back of his neck, the light from the streetlamps bathing the pair of them in an orange glow. “Yeah. That’s a thing.”

“You love me?”

Dean looked at him desperately. “Isn’t it obvious? Yeah, I love you. Like, a ton. Sorry. I mean, I didn’t really realise how much until now, and it’s only our first date. Fuck, I’m sorry man, I don’t uhh... Just pretend I never said anything, okay?” His hands covered his face and he leaned against a wall, hidden face turned to the night sky. “Sorry.”

Castiel approached him, grasping Dean’s hands with his own and pulling them away from his face gently. “Don’t hide from me, Dean. And don’t apologise.” He smiled shyly and kissed Dean again. “I’m pretty sure I love you too, you know.”

“Only ‘pretty sure’? Wow, cold.” Dean poked his tongue out, and Castiel was close enough to simply touch it with his own, Dean’s lips parting instinctively so that Castiel could kiss him more forcefully and deeply.

“I love you, Dean,” Castiel growled against Dean’s mouth, making the larger man shudder with anticipation. “I don’t care if it’s our first, second, third, or hundredth date, you are mine and I am yours.”

He pulled back, and Dean quirked up one side of his mouth. “So does that mean we’re dating?”

“Yes. Yes it does.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

They fell through the door of Castiel’s room, clinging to one another eagerly, mouths locked together. Castiel kicked the door shut behind him and pushed Dean down onto the bed, casting aside his jacket and shoes. The bed became a flurry of movement as Dean followed suit, and then Castiel was on him again, licking into his mouth and drawing out frantic, unholy sounds from the depths of Dean’s chest.

“Oh – Cas – oh god,” he choked out, writhing impatiently with his hands latching onto the bony hips of the man above him.

Castiel was burning, nerves set aflame with a hunger he’d never fully experienced before now. He pressed his body down into Dean’s, knee knocking into the wooden bedframe.

“Ow! Jesus, fuck, ow,” he cursed, forehead knocking against Dean’s. “Ow.”

“Shit, you okay?” Dean asked, slowly pushing himself up so that he was upright, Castiel kneeling in his lap. Castiel nodded shamefacedly.

“Banged my knee. Sorry.”

Dean snorted, and rolled them carefully in the narrow bed so that he was on top of Castiel, bowed legs braced on either side of the slimmer man as they lay on the bed. He reached down and began to unbutton Castiel’s shirt slowly, glancing up to gauge Castiel’s reaction after undoing each one. At last the entire thing was undone and Dean was able to drink in the sight of Castiel’s bare chest hungrily. His cock twitched in his jeans, and he swallowed before unbuttoning his own shirt, and leaned down so that bare skin was pressing bare skin. Each sense was heightened, and they both gasped at the contact – Dean feeling more like a virgin than he had ever felt before because this was _Cas_ , and now they were nose to nose, unable to look away from each other.

“Just... Tell me if it's too much," Dean whispered, lips brushing Castiel’s. His friend nodded with wide eyes that were almost black with how dilated his pupils were. Dean rolled his hips experimentally, uncomfortably aware of how hard he was already despite the fact that both of them still had their jeans on.

He was entirely unprepared for the whine this produced from the man beneath him. Castiel thrust upwards into him, hands gripping Dean’s hips in the search for something – _anything_ – to hold onto, excited by the exquisite sensation of the bulge in Dean’s jeans rubbing against his own erection.

“Dean! That – that feels – ohhh,” he sighed, wholly unaware of how erotic a picture he produced – hair messier than ever, gleaming eyes half-lidded, shirt unbuttoned and squirming with desire as he rubbed himself against Dean unreservedly, practically purring. Dean almost came then and there at this, and he rutted against Castiel just as enthusiastically. His glasses slid downwards, and just as they fell off the end of Dean’s nose he grabbed them and put them on the nightstand with an exasperated huff.

Elbows braced either side of Castiel’s head, he kissed him passionately, nipping at the plump lower lip before delving in for more. His tongue fucked into Castiel’s mouth with abandon as his hips worked sensually, without any need for his brain to tell them what to do. He chased his own release, and _oh my god that’s his hand_.

The sensation of a hand ghosting over his ribs was definitely there, Castiel making the most of Dean’s shirt being undone and grabbing his lower back so that he was able to work with Dean’s rhythm. Muscles bunched and released under his hand as Dean rocked downwards, dragging up against him to heighten the friction between their bodies, pushing past the muffled sensitivity caused by their jeans.

Castiel’s fingertips lightly trickled down Dean’s spine, setting off every nerve and causing Dean to let out a small whimper as his hips thrust forward uncontrollably, the cloth of his underwear dragging against his groin and making any chances of coherency impossible. “Cas, you – how – Cas!” he gasped out, pushing his mouth against Castiel’s in a desperate search for _more_. They kissed sloppily, any pretense of finesse long gone. Dean’s hands were buried in the dark, thick locks adorning Castiel’s head, while Castiel gripped the back of Dean’s neck with one hand and his lower back with the other, the both of them locked and lost against one another’s bodies.

Dean detached himself from Castiel’s mouth, pressing ravenous kisses along his jawline before mouthing at his neck, nipping and sucking at the skin until there was a gorgeous red and purple mark there. As he did so, Castiel tugged Dean’s earlobe into his mouth, sucking on it until Dean gave a particularly slow, merciless drag of his hips, whimpering.

“Cas – Cas – Cas – I’m gonna – _Caaaas_ ,” he keened. “Want you so bad – Cas – _ohhh god yes right there oh god please_ – love you – _fuck_!”

He bit out the last word viciously as Castiel ran a hand up his freckled chest and tweaked a hardened nipple, watching for his reaction.

“ _Again, do that again_ ,” Dean begged, frantically humping still, but Castiel was approaching the edge with him as he fucked upwards into the movement of Dean’s groin.

“Dean – I can’t – so good,” he babbled mindlessly. “I love you Dean – Dean – I – _Dean_!”

He came in his pants, painting the inside of his boxers with heat as his teeth sank into where Dean’s shoulder met his neck, hands shaking and vision full of stars and _Dean Dean Dean Dean_. His thumb brushed over the firm bud of Dean’s nipple, and he was vaguely aware of feeling Dean’s cock twitch against his through the denim barriers as the other man came too, sobbing his name before collapsing on top of him. He welcomed the warmth of Dean’s body, craving the closeness even though he was too fucked out to think, let alone move. Their sweat-slicked bodies stuck together, rapidly becoming cooler as they came down from their high.

A hazy smile settled on Castiel’s face, arms holding Dean close to him while Dean buried his face in the pillow above Castiel’s shoulder.

“Dean,” Castiel burbled sleepily, not for any particular reason – he just liked the way it sounded in his mouth. The man in question grunted, making no effort to move – not that Castiel minded. “Mmmm.”

After another minute, he felt Dean begin to shiver in the night air. Dean finally rolled off him, and as a chill hit Castiel’s bare skin, he hissed and pulled up the blankets over them properly before looking over and realising that Dean’s cheeks were wet. “Dean? Are you okay?”

Dean looked at him, confused. “What? Of course I am, why?”

“You’re crying.”

“What? No I’m –” Dean wiped his cheek with a thumb. “Oh.”

“Was it me?” Shit, what if Dean hadn’t enjoyed it at all?

“No! No, no, no. I have no idea, I’m just... I’m happy, Cas. Like, really happy.” Dean put his arms around Castiel, slightly hampered by the narrowness of the bed. “I never thought I’d have this. I feel like I’m in a goddamn chick flick. Or the Matrix. Is this even real?”

Castiel kissed him and shifted so that they were once again pressed together, the slight discomfort from his sticky underwear paling in comparison to the sensation of having Dean next to him. “This is real, Dean. And I’m happy too.”

“No, you don’t get it. I never even thought I could have something like this. Like you. You’re everything, Cas, and I need you and I – oh, god.” Tears began trickling down Dean’s face. “You have no fucking idea, man.” He began to sob openly, then, and Castiel pulled him in so that his head was tucked into Castiel’s bare chest. “I don’t even fucking know why I’m crying, okay? I don’t cry after sex. Ever. I promise. Don’t laugh at me.”

“Shh,” Castiel soothed, rubbing slow circles into Dean’s skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. “It’s okay, Dean. Just let it out.”

So Dean did, clinging to Castiel like he was drowning and Castiel was the only life raft left.

Sleep began to overtake them, so they lazily peeled off their shirts and jeans, kicking them out from under the blanket and quickly pulling their feet back into the warmth to press against each other.

“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel said, yawning and flicking off the light.

Dean nuzzled into him, mouth half open against the pale skin of Castiel’s shoulder. “Night, Cas. Love you.”

He fell asleep as Castiel kissed his forehead. “I love you too, Dean.”

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

The next few days blew past so fast it was almost scary. Gabriel, of course, gave them free pie when he could get away with it, and was fond of freaking Dean out with his enthusiasm for yelling “BLESS THIS UNION!” at every opportunity. Sam was over the moon, and teased Dean mercilessly once he found out about the flowers he’d gotten Castiel, while Jess simply shot him knowing smirks every now and then.

Bobby, when they visited the auto shop for the first time after getting together, gave the pair of them appraising looks from under his grease-stained eyebrows before taking Castiel aside and speaking with him in a low voice while Dean anxiously fidgeted. When the pair came back, Castiel looked vaguely alarmed and Bobby had a distinct air of satisfaction.

“Bobby, did you break him?” Dean demanded, taking Castiel’s hand. Bobby rolled his eyes.

“I only threatened to, don’t worry.”

“In exaggerated detail,” Castiel added hollowly. Dean squeezed his hand.

“Dude, he’s family. We don’t break family, remember?” he told Bobby, who simply snorted and went back to the Volvo he was working on.

“Family?” Castiel asked as they walked outside into the brilliant sunshine. Dean was quiet for a moment, taking in their surroundings before looking back at his boyfriend.

“Yeah, family. We’re family.”

Ellen and Jo were evidently of the same opinion as Bobby, giving Castiel a long talk when they went over for dinner a week after the concert. Ellen then surprised him by hugging him, which he reciprocated after standing stock still for a second.

“Look after him, you hear?” she said softly. Castiel nodded.

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Tell him if I’m not part of the planning committee for the wedding, I’m killing him in his sleep,” added Jo, who then wandered off back to the game Sam was playing on the Wii.

Finally, the day of graduation came, and the pair of them had helped each other pack their things, the way they helped one another unpack all those months ago.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said, taking in the sight of his bare room that held so many memories.

Dean looped an arm around his waist. “Well, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t help?” he asked, and kissed Castiel’s forehead. “You sure living with Gabe is what you want?”

Castiel sighed. “No, but I don’t really have any other options, much like you don’t with living with Bobby and Ellen for now. And it’ll take a while for us to find jobs – there aren’t many places in Kansas with a kindergarten teacher and high school history teacher opening.”

“Mm,” Dean hummed in response. “Mr. Novak, Leader of the Minion Army. I like the sound of that. Kinda suits you.” He swatted Castiel’s ass, and moved to pick up the last box. “Come on, we should get going. I’ll drive you to Gabe’s – he was meant to be here an hour ago, the jackass.”

They drove right past Gabriel’s apartment, however, and Castiel frowned. “Um, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Gabriel’s place is back there,” Castiel jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Dean nodded.

“I know.”

“Where are we going?”

Dean finally glanced over at him, a scared smile on his face. “So, I found a job.”

“You what?! Dean, that’s amazing!” Castiel would have kissed him had Dean not been driving. “Where?!”

“That’s the thing. It’s in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Um. And the elementary school there has a job opening for the pre-schoolers – you’d mostly be working the library and reading to kids. I sent them a recommendation for you from Professor Shurley and they offered you the job. It’s there if you want it.” Dean pulled over, and they stared at each other while he licked his dry lips. “I um, I found us a place there too. It’s not big, and it hasn’t really got a garden because it’s an apartment, but it has window boxes and there’s a conservatory nearby we can visit on weekends or whatever. I mean, if you don’t wanna come with me you don’t have to, but I really think we could –”

Castiel was on him in an instant, kissing him into breathlessness and forcing Dean to pull over quickly in order to avoid crashing. “Dean, you wonderful, amazing man!” he cried, kissing him over and over. “Of course I’ll come with you! How could you even think otherwise?!”

A slow smile crept across Dean’s face as he gazed up at the man in his lap. “Really?”

“Yes! Let’s go!” Castiel paused. “Wait, I should tell Gabriel—”

“No need,” Dean interrupted. “You and me are gonna road trip through Nebraska. Who knows, maybe everyone’s gonna meet us in South Dakota and help us move in. It’s all arranged, just need your say-so before the Thunderbirds are go. Maybe we can do some stargazing on the way, like we wanted to.”

Castiel kissed him. “I love you.”

His boyfriend laughed and kissed him back. “I love you too. You ready for this?”

“A future with you? Always.”

They drove on, into the future, holding one another’s hand.


End file.
